#and speaking with each provider could take days or even weeks to complete. Even then

[maidservicesblog]

From Dust to Shine: Finding the Best Home Maid Services in India

Finding the time to thoroughly clean your home may be difficult in today's busy world of work and demanding families. There are always a few minutes to pull out the vacuum and give the area a quick once-over, but it is impossible to perform a thorough cleaning. Many people use the maid services in Jaipur provided by house cleaning businesses to keep their homes looking clean, fresh, and professionally done - and it really does make a difference.

Finding the best house cleaning service can be difficult due to the abundance of available options. The process of browsing websites, requesting quotes, and speaking with each provider could take days or even weeks to complete. Even then, you might not be certain if you are making the most of your money. You may be considering hiring a house cleaning service for a variety of reasons, and if you choose wisely, you will find that it greatly simplifies your life.

Let us discuss a few scenarios in which you might hire a house cleaner, and then we will try to assist you in selecting the best candidate. It pays to know what to look for when selecting your provider of commercial cleaning services because the market is competitive.You will discover how to make your cleaning services more affordable, when to schedule, and what to look for in a reliable house cleaning service. Make sure to read this before making any reservations if you've never hired a housecleaning service or are looking for a new housekeeping service.

Tips for Finding the Best Home Maid Services

Let us look at the best criteria you can to use to select your housekeeping service provider.

1. Local Cleaning Services

If they are a locally based service provider, that is the first thing to consider. Making a list of the many cleaning service providers that are available and operate locally might be a good place to start. A local business will be aware of your location and will not incur additional expenses by travelling from a distance. Additionally, they will have provided services to other residences in the neighbourhood, and you can always ask friends and neighbours for recommendations.

The second factor to consider is their reputation, which is another argument in favour of staying local. A company providing cleaning services in local will make every effort to deliver excellent service because they are aware that positive word of mouth will help them establish a solid reputation. By doing this, you are more likely to find a reputable business that charges fair prices and that you can contact again for additional work.

You should also visit their website, even though it might seem obvious. Nowadays, even the smallest businesses have a functional website that is easy to use, and it should include not only all their contact information and a detailed description of their services. It may also include customer reviews. Give them a call; any business that is sincere about offering you a professional service will be happy to speak with you, address all your questions, and dispel any confusions you may have. Ask if they can help if you cannot find the service you need, such as a maid service in Jaipur, as they might be able to.

2. Office or Home Services

We have only discussed home office cleaning services up to this point, but you will discover that most cleaning businesses in your area also provide other services. If you own a small business and cannot afford to hire permanent office staff, a nearby company will work with you on a schedule - most provide evening, night, and weekend options as well - so that your facilities can be kept clean, tidy, and prepared for visitors always, and at very affordable rates.

This brings us to our following question: Is the housekeeping business you are considering transparent about the qualifications of its employees? In order to ensure that you are working with a qualified team, ask about the background checks, level of training, and any accreditation that they have undergone. In order for them to be held accountable for any damage that might be caused by their actions, you also need to make sure that the work is protected by an adequate, comprehensive insurance package.

3. Natural and organic alternatives

You will discover that the best cleaning service providers also choose not to use potentially toxic, chemical-filled cleaning products in their clients' homes or workplaces. Finding a business that only uses organic cleaning products is simple; you can check their website or inquire about it when you speak with them. Many also offer an aromatherapy routine to complete the cleaning, leaving everything smelling lovely and new!

When you have kids or pets around the house, it is especially important to use organic cleaning services rather than conventional ones. Therefore, when choosing the domestic help services in Jaipur that best suits your needs, it should always be one of the questions on your short list.

Finally, we reach the section that you might have looked at first: the prices your house cleaning company offers. Do not make any assumptions. Nothing is worse than expecting the laundry to be folded when you get home and finding out it has not been done because it's not covered by their service agreement with you.

Second, if you are on a tight budget, tailoring your cleaning to fit your needs can make it a little less expensive. Here, it is advised not to choose the cheapest option out of necessity; rather, look for the company that offers the most flexibility, a service that is as close as possible to what you need, and a good track record with past clients.

CONCLUSION

When house cleaning maids or servicemen were sought after through recommendations in the past. It has recently been made simple to access, in part thanks to online maid service Jaipur. One day cleaning is a viable option for all solutions of any kind. Connect with the best housekeeping services and make your home transit from dust to shine.

#maid services #online maid services #dFinding the time to thoroughly clean your home may be difficult in today's busy world of work and demanding families. There are always a f #but it is impossible to perform a thorough cleaning. Many people use the maid services in Jaipur provided by house cleaning businesses to k #fresh #and professionally done - and it really does make a difference. #Finding the best house cleaning service can be difficult due to the abundance of available options. The process of browsing websites #requesting quotes #and speaking with each provider could take days or even weeks to complete. Even then #you might not be certain if you are making the most of your money. You may be considering hiring a house cleaning service for a variety of #and if you choose wisely #you will find that it greatly simplifies your life. #Let us discuss a few scenarios in which you might hire a house cleaner #and then we will try to assist you in selecting the best candidate. It pays to know what to look for when selecting your provider of commer #when to schedule #and what to look for in a reliable house cleaning service. Make sure to read this before making any reservations if you've never hired a ho #Tips for Finding the Best Home Maid Services #Let us look at the best criteria you can to use to select your housekeeping service provider. #1. Local Cleaning Services #If they are a locally based service provider #that is the first thing to consider. Making a list of the many cleaning service providers that are available and operate locally might be a #they will have provided services to other residences in the neighbourhood #and you can always ask friends and neighbours for recommendations. #The second factor to consider is their reputation #which is another argument in favour of staying local. A company providing cleaning services in local will make every effort to deliver exce #you are more likely to find a reputable business that charges fair prices and that you can contact again for additional work. #You should also visit their website #even though it might seem obvious. Nowadays #even the smallest businesses have a functional website that is easy to use #and it should include not only all their contact information and a detailed description of their services. It may also include customer rev

[rboooks]

The Adoptive Son. Part 3

A pair of large, cornflower blue eyes stare across the living room of a luxurious penthouse at a nervous-looking man. The pair belong to a young teenager named Tim Drake, who, for the past few weeks, had spoken only a handful of words with Dick since Operation Honey Pot had begun.

They were waiting for Crowne to go get the surprise he had special ordered for Drake from an acquaintance

He tended to stare at him whenever he was around. Sometimes Dick didn't think Drake would even blink. It felt a little like Drake was starstruck by Dick- but he couldn't figure out what he had done to earn such rapture from Drake.

Other times, Drake would study him the same way a scientist would study a newly discovered bug- fascinated but weary, as though he didn't know if it was dangerous. So the scientist needed to pin the bug to a board and take it apart to understand it.

It sort of made Dick uneasy.

The night Crowne had brought him back, Drake happily played some video games while his babysitter- a sweet college student named Nancy- had been working on her assignment at the table.

Drake had turned to greet Crowne and had promptly choked on his own spit at the sight of Dick. Crowne had run off to cook them a meal, insisting Nancy finish her homework and not worry as he cooked.

She had smiled gratefully, turning back to her books while Drake had been rooted by the tv, with the most awe-struck expression Dick had ever seen.

Dick is a little surprised by how well Crowne treats Nancy Salazar.

Nancy is studying to be a pediatric occupational therapist. She adores children and is fascinated by the physical therapist aspect of the medical field.

Dick had learned that Nancy had been struggling to pay her Gotham University tuition after losing her job to a rouge attacking her workplace and the company deciding they needed to make budget cuts to complete the repairs.

She had also fallen behind on her bills due to her father suffering a medical emergency and the family pooling together what little they had to help him get life-saving surgery.

Her dad had been the family's primary provider for as long as Nancy could remember. Since neither of her parents could speak English, they had limited employment options. Nancy's siblings were all younger then than her, so they couldn't help much with the bills.

She had tried to take over as the eldest daughter, but soon it became apparent she was close to losing the house her parents had left their home country for to build a better future for their children. It devastated her.

She had been on the brink of becoming desperate for any job when she had run into Crowne at a wifi-cafe shop. She had seen Tim struggling to get through the door with his wheelchair and had gone to help him. (the child had seen internet videos of parkour and chosen to attempt the tricks himself. He had broken his leg from jumping from one roof to another.)

Her kind actions got Crowne attention, and he invited her to sit with them, then witnessed her have a meltdown when the owner of the cafe told her he had just filled the barista position she had come for an interview for.

It must have all piled up until Nancy couldn't hold back.

Crowne and Drake had consulted her, listening to her woes. After she calmed down, the two adults exchanged contact information to get to know each other. He had offered a babysitting job with complete benefits and a full-ride scholarship. Crowne had even gone far and beyond, paying off all her father's medical expenses and debts.

Dick knew all this because he had done a background check on her to see if she was involved in Crowne's schemes. Her story felt just a tab bit too far fetch for all the good fortune of meeting Crowne that fateful day.

She even admitted that she was sure she would have resorted to a life of crime with how desperate she had been back then.

When she came back clean- just the eldest daughter of immigrants trying to make it in this hellish city- Dick had thought Crowne was infatuated with her.

Nancy was a very attractive young lady, and it would not be the first time a rich man took advantage of a woman in finical distress. He hadn't found evidence yet, but Dick would keep an eye on her to ensure she was safe.

Her involvement was a lot easier to dismiss than it was for Drake.

"You and Danny are dating. He told me last night." Drake says after about half an hour of Scientist-looking-at-bug staring.

Dick throws on his best Wanye smile, making sure it's both charming and besotted. "Yes. We've agreed to become official. I hope you don't mind."

Drake tilts his head, looking ironically enough like a bird. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On what your intentions with Danny are." Drake puts down his Crowne laptop, which Danny had been programming and designing back when they started talking. The design is still the slimmest Dick had ever seen, small enough that it sat comfortably in Drake's school back and robust enough that it worked for all his gaming and photo developing.

It took Crowne about two months to complete what he called "modern," but it wouldn't be out to the rest of the public until Christmas when Crowne planned to reveal it to raise profits as high as possible.

The only reason Drake was allowed to have a model so early was simply that Crowne obviously saw him as a younger brother and sometimes maybe even a son. Dick certainly pick that up in the two-month undercover mission.

He must win over Drake as soon as possible for the sake of the mission. So far, he's come up with nothing incriminating, but more kids have disappeared. If the other boy can't stand him, it will seriously risk his access to Crowne's home and any clues on the missing children.

"I want to give him the life he deserves." Dick settles on. He's noticed that Drake is crazy intelligent. There was no reason to outright lie and get caught if the boy was smart enough to connect the dots.

"Danny deserves the world." Drake nods, stating the words like a fact. "Whatever you searching for, you won't find here."

What?

"Do you not want me to date Danny?"

Drake pauses, carefully turning the question in his head before answering. "I want someone to date Danny because they like him"

"I do like him."

"Do you?" Drake's eyes are practically ice, and Dick gets the sense he just walked into a trap. Carefully, he double-taps his left belt loop sending a warning sound to the Batcave. They won't pull him out yet, but it will have either Babs or Jason nearby in gear, just in case.

A soft click is heard from his right earring, and he knows Alfred is listening.

"I really do." He says in a warm voice.

Drake seems skeptical.

"Danny always had people falling for him. I had to tell him Jenny Wilson wasn't asking him for a private tour of his kitchen when she tried to get him to bring her back to the penthouse. He honestly thought she cared about his grape peeler. He's like that, you know? Though thoughtful, caring, kind, intelligent, and strong, Danny can't see that people generally think he's what they would want in a romantic partner. I think he was bullied a lot as a kid before his adoption, and it's ruined his ability to see his worth."

Dick tries not to scowl. Yes, he's suspected the same thing. He just hopes it's not why Crowne has inflicted so much pain.

He can't stand people who use bullying as an excuse. It doesn't justify anything they do, it also demonizes the victims, and they get too scared to report what they are going through. ''I can't claim to not be like the other people because I don't know them. I know myself, and I can promise that every inch of me wants to see Danny living the life he deserves."

Whatever Drake is going to say gets cut off by Crowne walking back from the elevator carrying a box. "Tim, come look!"

He settles the box on the coffee table, so Drake can reach over and open it. There is a small gasp of delight from the boy as he pulls out a well-done Robin hoodie. It's not over the top like most Robin merch, but it's not subtle either. It's so nicely done. Dick can even tell it's based on Jason rather than him.

The second Robin is Drake's favorite. The teen prices it by holding it up and cheering, "Oh my gosh! I love it, I love it! Where did you get this!?"

"One of Nancy's friends is majoring in fashion design. She overheard me say I wanted to get the second Robin merch that wasn't a blatant grab for money, and she had her friend draw up some designs. I will sponsor her and sell her work in our stores."

Crowne is wearing a Robin hoodie of his own, but this one is based on Dick, and for a moment, his heart soars at the sight of Crowne in his family colors. It's a dangerous thing.

He knows one of the pitfalls of undercover work is getting too attached to the lies. He couldn't allow himself to actually fall for someone like Danny Crowne. Nothing good would come out of it once he saw him jailed for everything he's done.

He hasn't gotten anything to show Crowne's crimes, but Bruce had enough proof for the shell companies doing strange and dangerous experiments.

They needed to figure out what the experiments were attempting to do. Still, they found small clues: systematics showed weapons that didn't intend to harm humans, half-erased research on "eco-energy," what looked like machines attempting to rip holes in reality, and glowing green liquid that made Bruce pale when Jason brought back a simple.

It made Dick angry that the liquid prompted his ex-mentor to contact Talia al Ghul to ask, but she claimed to know nothing of Danny Crowne. Bruce felt she was lying, so after asking Wonder Woman and Superman for help, the big three went to Nanda Parbat to look for clues.

Dick wasn't sure what they found, but Bruce had a surprise for him back at the cave once he finished visiting his "boyfriend."

They could take down Crowne Co. with what they did have, but there was a chance Crowne could claim that his scientists went rogue and let them take the fall. Also, they didn't have any names of the scientists. It was like the invisible man was conducting them on his own.

Dick had to wait a little longer. See the big plan and unravel it so everything can never be rebuilt.

Yes, he's only seen a good man who may be socially awkward once you get past his regal composure, and his speech may be a bit too formal. A passionate inventor who always tried to find a new ways to improve people's lives, especially in medicine.

A man who cooked because he liked feeding people.

A man who offered a helping hand because his parents were often mocked for their careers- Dick suspected they may have been prostitutes based on the small comments of people thinking "it wasn't real jobs and they should be ashamed for themselves"- but most of all, Dick found a man who seemed lonely.

Someone lost after life displaced him, desperately trying to find himself again. It made Dick feel better knowing someone like him was doing the same.

"What is your opinion, Dick?" Crowne asks, doing a slight turn. Dic can't fight the urge to lean in for a quick kiss, telling himself it was all for the mission and the butterflies he felt in his stomach were terrible indigestion.

Crowne smiled into the kiss, pressing a second one on Dick's lips before leaning back, looking a little flustered still, and over his shoulder, he saw Drake's eyes narrow.

Maybe the kid was jealous?

He didn't know, but he better keeps an eye on Tim Drake. Something told him not to underestimate that boy.

"I got you a Nightwing too. The first Robin and Nightwing are one of my favorite heroes. They make me feel safe. I know I shouldn't worry with them guarding me at night." Crowne says, and Dick fights hard not to flinch.

You have no reason to feel guilt. It's for the mission.

He hopes he finds proof soon.

(Part 1), (part 2)

#dc x dp crossover #The adoptive son #Part 3 #Death Defying #Tim is catching on that Nightwing may be playing with his brother's heart #Nancy is just another person luckly enough to be under Phantom's protection #Can you guess what bruce found? #Dick is starting to catch feelings

[agirlandherkinks]

Hypnovisor: Beta Test (TGTF, Hypno)

James had always been a tech super-fan. The newest phone, newest headphones, shiniest laptop, he had to stay abreast of and on top of the current trends. So when he read about some fancy new VR company that wanted beta testers for a headset, provided for free (minus shipping), his vision blurred and he signed up before he even considered finishing reading the ad.

Three weeks of anticipation and waiting passed until his doorbell finally rung, accompanied by the corresponding buzz of an email notification on his phone. Scrambling from his couch he flung the apartment door open, and to his mild surprise saw that the postman was nowhere in site. There was just a nondescript cardboard box labelled "Fragile", which fortunately bore none of the expected dents and scratches one would associate with the postal service and delicate freight. Practically bouncing with undignified delight, James scooped his parcel up and dashed back inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

The headset looked even better than he had imagined. Sleek plastic curves surrounded a central visor that was just translucent enough to see through, meaning you could walk around safely if you turned a program's opacity down. It fit beautifully when he tried it on, more comfortable than anything he'd ever worn. Wearing it felt wonderful and... right, somehow. His only complaint was that the black headset was decorated in hot pink highlights, although it still looked futuristic enough to sooth his fragile masculinity. His roommate and best friend Erik certainly agreed, interspersing James' insightful comments with appropriate "Ooh's" and "Aah's". Waiting for the battery to charge seemed to take a thousand years, although chatting with each other about what it could do replaced their boredom with swiftly growing excitement.

Two hours later, a soft buzz from the headset in the corner signified its charge was complete. Erik cheered, his sandy-blonde hair bouncing behind him, and even James couldn't suppress a soft whoop of excitement. Erik unplugged it and handed it to James with a flourish and a bow, who accepted it with a suitable stuffy speech. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he was so giddy with anticipation he felt he could match Erik's goofiness for once. The advertisement had promised unmatched realism, a luxurious fit, and cutting-edge, groundbreaking technology. Normally James would have discounted claims like that as corporate claptrap, but the headset fit so well he actually believed the rest of it.

Booting up the headset brought a perky, relaxing jingle in his ears and wall of settings text in his vision. He would have read it, but between his own excitement and Erik's infectious enthusiasm he left the settings on default and skipped to the main menu. The feedback for the buttons was amazing, it felt just like he was pressing down on them whenever he touched one! Another little jingle sounded as he confirmed his choices, and a few games and applications bubbled up into his view, imposed over a hot pink background.

"So Erik, what do you think I should try," James asked. "We've got a music player, interior design app, some sorta idle monster game, and a few RPG's." "Surely try out the RPG's man! You've gotta see that high-definition you were yammering about when we called." Erik's voice came back surprisingly muffled, as if he was speaking down a long tunnel. "Bro, I can barely hear you, the noise-cancelling on this headset's insane! It's like I'm in a world of my own!" James took a deep breath, recovering a little of his composure. "Alright, an RPG it is. Fantasy, sci-fi, or modern day?" "Go fantasy! You know we've both got a thing for elf chiiiicks. Hell, with the kind of feedback you were telling me about, you might even get to grab her" Erik's distant voice sounded playful, with a ting of desire and jealousy. And it did make James hard, at the thought of getting to look and squeeze and fondle some busty elf bitch, made entirely to his wishes~

To James' horror a quiet moan escaped his lips, accompanied by faint hysterical laughter from his friend. Brushing it off angrily, he slammed the icon for 'Silverflame: A Magical Journey' (the button felt like thick moss to his touch). Instantly a soft flute begun to play in his ears, accompanied by the gentle lull of a harp and a quiet sparkling. James felt himself relax, all the tension draining out of his body. Erik must have noticed too, because James heard his laughter die down to be replaced with a slightly concerned silence. "Don't worry man," James said, "music's just really pretty..." He trailed off with a slight giggle, but heard Erik give an affirmative just before a silky, sultry voice started to speak.

"Welcome traveler, to the beautiful world of Silverflame. An untamed paradise where strange beasts roam the land, noble adventurers go forth in search of treasure, and the most wonderful magic [James shuddered] is woven. You are the latest brave, beautiful heroine [Heroine? Shouldn't I get to choose my character's gender first?] to step foot into this land. But first, tell us a bit about who you really are."

Pink sparkles rained across the screen, superimposing his view of a vibrant meadow with a series of stats. Physique, IQ, Wisdom, and Charisma, fairly standard stuff. And next to it, a human man with a blank, slightly happy expression on his face [...did he look familiar?]. James gasped, he looked just like a real person! Erik was suitably impressed by this information, and urged him to pick some stats so he can get to the body modification. "You can always change them later man, might as well pick a couple of stats now and get a move on. Sounds like you're not gonna get to pick your gender for a while, which kinda sucks. Buuut if we're being horny about this, you might as well go for a slut scaffold so you make less changes later." James chuckled at this, remembering the build they discussed one night while both sloshed beyond belief. For this game it would be high Physique and Charisma, low IQ and Wisdom. James touched the slider for Physique, and gasped as he felt himself feel... better than he had in a long time.

Not trusting his senses any more, and worrying about Erik being exposed to whatever was happening from the other side of the headset, James brushed off his concerned questions (which he could barely hear now, past the soothing, soothing, music) and suggested he went to the toilet, since he'd been holding it in since he got here. Erik grumbled at missing out, but mercifully left. James was actively sweating from what just went through his body, but couldn't muster the energy or concentration to feel the level of panic he knew he should be. The music was just so, so calming, that fear was harder to feel than usual. The prompt told him he still had to change two more stats, so he decided to turn down Wisdom. He gasped again and his vision went blurry, and when it cleared he felt a bit, fuzzier? In the head. But it wasn't too bad, in fact it was perfectly manageable. He felt even calmer now, so maybe changing another stats would make him feel better. Why not IQ? He tapped the slider.

He groaned as an immense pressure wrapped around his brain. Thoughts, aspirations, memories felt like they were melting from his head faster than they appeared. The pressure seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually it trailed off and he was left panting in his chair. It had felt, really good? Like, tots good, even. James giggled to himself. Something was different about him, but he couldn't think what. Oh well, it'll probably come to him later. He squealed in delight as he realized he could get a step closer to the body modification page, although he looked longingly at the IQ slider. He could come back to it later, for now it was time to make his super-hot elf slut a body!

James clapped to himself with delight as a cute little melody played, a shower of sparkles spiraled [spiraled...] across the screen, and the man on the side moved to the center of the screen. "Firstly", the sultry voice said, "choose what race you want to be." That was an easy choice. He clicked on the 'Elf' button, and shivered as he felt tingles run through his body, intensifying in his ears. Reaching up to touch them, he inhaled as he felt long, pointed tips. In fact, his whole body seemed a bit slimmer. This doesn't quite feel right... he thought. Oh I know! It must be making me an elf too! Maybe we'll be in a party together! Between the strange fuzziness and the pulsating heat in his groin, James quickly flicked to the next page and made his choices. Long, silver hair, gorgeous big purple eyes, and some giant perky lips. "Combination unlocked!" the narrator exclaimed, "+1 Charisma, -1 Wisdom!" James giggled again as the mental fog settled a little tighter around his brain and naughty thoughts about cute girls and boys filled his brain. Boys? Well I guess I've never minded swinging both ways... This felt natural to him, because of course he'd always been bisexual. Next screen!

"Choose your voice young heroine," the woman commanded. James felt a little strange, like her voice was echoing around his head. And why were the sparkles still there, spinning and spinning around the screen. He felt confused, but knew he had to obey that voice. He picked the sexiest combination for his own voice; high pitched, breathy, perky. "Combination unlocked! +1 Charisma, -1 Int." He moaned as that wonderful pressure wrapped his brain and his weekend plans changed to eyeing hunks at the beach. Girls were cool and all, but men had always been more interesting to him [and their pulsing, hard...].

"Now heroine, can you tell me: Are you a girl, or a boy?" The question sent shock waves through his brain. He was a he... right? Why did it feel like there was some longing, some need to acknowledge the woman in him... her? The fog, the music, the spirals, all the feelings he had been having, James could hardly think. Maybe he should think less. Being a girl sounded fun, it's just a character after all. And he needed to be sexy. "Wonderful choice young lady! Now, are you a dominatrix, a super-switch, or a bimbo slut?" Bimbo slut~ James giggled as the words echoed in her brain. She was a bit of a slut, now that she thought about it. It felt odd to pick it, but why not for funsies? "Bimbo slut selected! Wonderful choice, just wonderful. Hold still while your stats are adjusted, and then we'll begin on giving you the perfect, sexy body you've always wanted."

The spirals filled her view and began increasing in speed. James was taken aback at first, but quickly felt oddly calm and receptive to that sultry voice.

"Physique +1, Physique +1, Physique +1." James felt wonderful, like every ache and blemish in his body had faded away.

"Wisdom -1, Wisdom -1." Thinking was fuzzy, but Jamella felt so content she didn't care.

"Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1. Charisma +1." Jamella gasped as visions of sexy men, pecs and abs and juicy, throbbing cocks filled her mind. A desperate heat filled her, and she began touching her groin against her will to try and ease it.

"IQ -1." She moaned, feeling light.

"IQ-1." Empty. She was so, wonderfully empty.

"IQ -1." This was like, so much funsies! She didn't know what was going on, but everything felt so nice~

"IQ -1. Congratulations Ella, you now have the 'Bimbo Slut' build."

Ella giggled absently. Thinking was like, so hard, and she felt like, so hard~. The fun spirals had disappeared... But the nice lady was talking to her again! With great effort, she listened in. "Now that your mental changes are complete, it's time for the physical changes!" Ella rubbed her thighs together and cheered in excitement. She couldn't wait to have more fun! "Unless you choose so now, the process will be au-to-ma-tic [...why was she using such big words?]. You can choose to take over at any time, or wait until the end and adjust as you please [...please. That word felt funny in her brain]".

"No user input detected. Body adjustment commencing."

A nice shiver went through Ella's body as she felt her headset warm against her face. Looking at the boring young man she'd begun to customize (her reflection, of course), she couldn't wait to begin! She sighed happily as waves of pretty silver hair drifted into her view and cascaded down her back. It felt especially nice against her smooth, soft skin, and she couldn't help but gently shake her head to watch it sway. A cool feeling brought her attention to her face, and the alluring amethyst eyes now set in it. Her face itself became much more elegant [but cutesy, too!], and she puckered her lips as a lovely pressure made them swell and bulge out, giving her a sexy and kissable pout [the boys'll love this look! boys~]. She felt herself shrink a few centimeters, gulping as her Adam's apple disappeared into her body. In fact, her whole body had become even more slender, with narrow shoulders, adorably small hands [pretty purple nails!], and a tiny little waist. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. Her voice was so high and cutesy! She couldn't stop herself from giving out tiny, high-pitched giggles, just to hear how cute she was!

"Basic body structure altered. Adjusting outfit in preparation for primary and secondary sexual characteristics."

Ella ooh'ed appreciatively as a stream of sparkles enveloped her body. And when they disappeared, she squealed in delight! Her drab t-shirt and denim shorts were gone! In their place was a beautiful silver mini-dress that shimmered like starlight when she moved. She frowned in vexation, though. The plunging chest and shoulder-less design was very pretty, but her chest was flat! [shouldn't I have tiddies? The boys won't like me like this...] And the way it clung to her waist and hips would have been sexy, but as it was there was barely any difference between them! Her ass wasn't nearly big enough to justify how the dress cut off barely past it, and with how tight the fabric was Ella could see how achingly hard she was [wait, why do I have a cock? I'm supposed to get cock! In my mouth, in my ass, in my tight little pussy~]. It wasn't right!

"Thank you for your patience sweetie. Optimal figure calculated. Prepare for adjustment of sexual characteristics."

Ella let out a moan as a wave of heat and pleasure washed over her. With how horny she was she could barely keep her eyes open, but she knew she wanted to watch herself become the sexy little [cum] slut she was meant to be [I want it... I want to be~]. The heat settled in her hips, her ass, and her chest, and she moaned again as the changes begun.

Her nipples grew first, more than doubling in size and stiffening through the soft fabric of her dress. Tentatively touching them induced a gasp of pleasure [so nice~] and sent her rocking backwards. The motion made her giggle, because in that time she'd grown a cute pair of B-cup breasts that jiggled when she rocked. Jiggle makes me giggle. I like giggling. I like jiggling. Ella nodded thoughtfully to herself, feeling very wise. Her boobies grew to C-cups. She jiggled some more. She giggled some more.

A tightness around her hips distracted Ella from her tiddies. They were growing! She groaned as fabric and flesh tightened around them, too euphoric to feel pain. Sliding her hands from her waist to her hips made her squeal happily. She had such a sexy hourglass figure, she knew any girl worth her money would be jealous [and the boys would wanna hold me and squeeze me and fuck me raw]. Thighs thickening dramatically in response to her growth, she slapped her ass in impatience. Why won't it get bigger already!

But get bigger it did, swelling out in response to her touch. She fell forward as sheer pleasure blanketed her mind and weakened her knees. Squishing her boobies against the ground made her feel even nicer, until she was panting and moaning for somebody to help, to hit her again and make her bigger~

A slap landed on her booty, and she groaned in delight as it and her thighs swelled again. More. More! I NEED MORE! She moaned in ecstasy as blow after blow landed, making her swell and grow and grow and swell and feel so gooooood! Her tits inflated to D, then E-cups [good for the boys. I can jiggle so well for them~]. Her hips widened and thighs thickened, until she looked ridiculously large compared to her waist [ridicu... ridic... really, really sexy...] And her ass kept growing, and growing, and growing and growing and growing and growing! Tighter! Around my cock! Cock... I... oh~ Too... too... much! Too much! I'm~ I'm!

OooOOoOoOOooOoOoooOOOOOHHH~

Ella screamed in delight as she came, just cumming and cumming and cumming her tiny little brain out.

"Wisdom -1. IQ -1. Charisma +1. Charisma +1."

She was desperate, humping against the ground as the flow of cum abated from her cock. Everything she had been was flowing out of her messy stupid brain, and everything that she should be was coming in. Boys... Cock... Need fuck... Breed~ I'm such a dumb little cum slut~ She giggled to herself.

"Final adjustment required."

Ella stood up shakily, the bottom of her dress a cum-soaked mess. She squealed with delight as the mental fog settled even tighter and she felt an intense heat in her groin. She could see the tops of nipples trying to break free from her dress, and could feel the air drift over her ass, which had mostly escaped the fabric in her growth. So sexy. Hehe~ Boy can take me~ Don't even need dress off~ Thinking hard... Her ass and hips had pulled up so much fabric that her cock was visible now, deflating and still leaking from her orgasm, but she gasped in pleasure as it began rising up again. And, as she felt something long and hard brush her booty [cock? Boys? Fuck?].

A pressure like hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, and she whimpered in desire as she felt an unseen cock touch her cheek. At the same time, something began intensely stimulating her own. She reflexively opened her mouth in a moan, but was cut off as she felt the cock shove inside [Feels~ Feels!].

All thought stopped.

Her mind was blank, full of pleasure and desire and happiness. Her cock felt good like it never had before, and the dick in her mouth tasted wonderful~ This was what Ella was made for, what she was meant to be. Feeling good, feeling sexy, feeling a pleasant emptiness that could only be filled with cock. Her haze reached a crescendo. Dimly she was aware of her own cries of ecstasy, muffled by the cock fucking her mouth and mind, as she came harder than she even had before. And as she came, her dick shrunk with each spurt until it went inside her [inside me!]. The cock withdrew from her mouth, filling her with a desperate longing. Emma moaned for her unseen hero, then gasped as she felt him once more. And blinked in surprise as the pretty meadow and her sexy reflection disappeared.

She was kneeling on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Shaking off a little of her confusion [don't need know much anyways...], she gasped as the tell-tale smell of pre-cum filled her nose. There was a man standing in front of her!

Sandy-blonde hair. Body like a surfer hunk! Naked. With a massive, sexy cock, dripping with her saliva and it's own juices. Ella moaned in desire, falling on all fours. Visibly trembling with lust, he tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly moved behind her.

Touching her with his [cock!].

Ever so gently, on the edge of her [...pussy!!!!]

He rammed inside her, and she screamed as an absolute feeling of rightness, of sexiness and pleasure and single-minded happiness rushed through her [MORE! HARDER! COCKKKK~]. Riding his dick she felt herself go into a trance, with nothing, absolutely nothing, disturbing her feelings. Ever. This was right. Ella moaned and surrendered to herself, drifting away on her lover's cock and mindless pleasure.

#hypnosis #tgtf #brain drain #breast expansion #hip expansion #ass expansion #hypnok1nk #bimboification #expansion #ally's kinks

[mysacredmuse]

hello!! request, : can you do headcanons or one shots or whatever else..!! about Aventurine having an s/o as clingy as him? a little twist though, they’re not as talkative/verbal as him, they’re very silent but would stay close to him or even follow him around quietly …. hopefully this isn’t too specific!! thank you have a nice week (fem or gn i don’t mind)

hello my dear !! yes, I can write that for you and don't worry at all, it's perfectly specific :) I did it in a form of headcanons simply because it's easier to articulate everything, I hope that you enjoy :D <3 and have a wonderful week yourself :) <3

more soft bf! aventurine with a clingy, yet silent partner <3 written with gender neutral reader in mind, fluff ! :)

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

he doesn't mind you being silent or less talkative at all ! As I previously mentioned - if that's the case, he will do all the talking, handle all the conversations and interactions with people. However, if you are also less talkative with him - he doesn't mind that either. If anything, he loves it a lot :)

he may be a big talker and everything he does quite literally forces him to be talkative & communicative, so having you as a more silent person in his busy days provides him a relief. He never knew that silence could be so comforting because it usually meant something bad for him in the past, so he will just enjoy the silence with you, perhaps all cuddled up or while clinging onto each other in one way or the other <3

he finds it adorable that you are so clingy with him, yet so quiet about it at the same time. He loves to tease you about it just a little bit, saying how you would make a perfect poker buddy or an opponent with a behavior that resembles a poker face :3 Sometimes he playfully states that you are being so silent only so people would think that he is more obsessed with you than you are with him, even though he knows that your body language says it all <3

pays a lot of attention to you all the time <3 He doesn't mind your silence, but he also won't make that a reason to be less aware of you. If you have a certain look on your face - he will learn what that look means and act accordingly. Again, again and again - until he learns as much as possible about your non-verbal communication :)

loves to hold hands or pinkies ! He would never let you simply follow him around without being in some way connected to him. Absolutely adores holding you by your hand. Same applies to holding pinkies - he simply discovered one day that he finds that rather cute and ever since he loves switching between holding your hand or your pinky with his pinky. He won't let go until you do, even if it means being glued together 24/7 :3

he adores cuddling with a partner who is equally clingy as him <3 It makes his heart 10 times warmer and happier to be able to fully and completely be himself around someone who also happens to share the clinginess in the same amounts. Neither of you ever sleeps alone, neither of you is ever without the other one. Where he goes - you go, where you go - he goes, end of the story <3

he encourages your clinginess and returns it 10x more for funsies <3 If you text him like 20 messages with 20 different topics when you feel more talkative or expressive, he will make sure to cover every single point you made in a great detail <3

loves carrying you on his back <3 I am all for strong Aventurine agenda, he will give you a piggyback rides all the time no matter what, especially if you are tired <3

the two of you get teased a lot for being so overly clingy, but he always takes the lead to reply and say that it's just their jealousy speaking. To add to that, even though you are less expressive, he takes a great pride in making you laugh or just make you all smiley and giddy around him <3

he has a thing with you when both of you are silently laying next to each other to just gently trace features of your face with his fingertips, enjoying how your skin feels underneath his touch. It's another quiet way of him admiring you and deepening the intimacy between the two of you :)

he doesn't mind if you don't compliment or praise him a lot, he learns your gaze. His heart becomes a warm pool of love every time you gaze lovingly, softly or with a certain pride at him. He always returns it with a soft smile, silently acknowledging your love for him :) <3 but that doesn't stop him for verbally praising you all the damn time :3

#aventurine x reader fluff #aventurine x reader #aventurine fluff #aventurine x yn #aventurine x you #hsr fluff #hsr imagines #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #muse's writings

[mishwanders]

Hey hey

:)

I was wondering if you could do a nsfw with botw/totk and twilight link being jealous of each other with reader’s attention and trying to get reader to pay more attention to the other with leads to spicy time and in the end they kinda realize they both on the same team bc they want reader to feel loved, happy, etc. and that’s something they can provide better as a team. If that makes sense lol

I had a fem reader in mind but I feel like this could also be Gn reader.

I really enjoy your work🥰🥰

I hope you have a good day/night

🩶

A part of me feels as if it’s been orchestrated by the reader, and now all I hear in my head is Kronk going “oh yeah, it’s all coming together”.

Characters: Wild x Fem!Reader x Twilight

A/N+Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI with this one. Written by Mishwanders - pls do not repost.

Tonight didn’t go exactly according to Twilight's plan, but if he were honest, he definitely wasn’t complaining. He and the Champion were finally back on speaking terms again after weeks worth of jealous conflict wedging itself between them in vainful efforts to win your affection. And now? Now, they both had you snuggly in between them, their jealousy thrown far out the window and their thoughts surrounding you and the pleasure they could give you together.

And, to be honest with yourself, you didn’t mind it at all.

You enjoyed being the center of their attention, having sure your crush on them was evident with each lingering touch and flirty word, ensuring that the constant push and pull between you and them continued until the three of you were at your wits end, unable to control or satiate your desires for them and theirs for you.

You had to have them and they desperately had to have you.

The first half of the night was lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, your lips finding both of theirs, their hands on you, grasping at the edges of your clothes and their own in efforts to shed the layers as fast as humanly possible before fumbling over each other and guiding you exactly how they wanted you. After that, you all were too absorbed in the sensations, their attention entirely on you and you on them, giving into every carnal desire you shared for the other, feeling the weight of the desperation and tension that hung in the air rolling off of your back as they slid into position with you.

The boys praised you the entire time, soft moans and whispers of how wonderful you looked, how nicely you took them, how good you felt wrapped around them. They made you feel more than heavenly, taking you round after round, making sure you were more than satisfied and filled, even until you were unable to hold yourself up by your arms and legs. But they weren’t done with you, not yet anyway. They at least had to give you one last lick of pleasure, before the sleep took over your eyes.

That’s how you found yourself in this position now with one hand wrapped around the back of Twilight’s neck, the other laced through Wild’s hair, desperately needing to feel both of them, ensuring that this wasn’t all just a dream. Twilight had one arm around your waist, holding your back against his chest. His lips hovered over the length of your neck and shoulder, kissing and nibbling where he saw fit, his hot breath dancing over every surface of your skin. Twilight’s other hand was leisuring cupping and massaging your breasts, fingers circling and pulling at your taut nipples, enjoying the sight of your chest heaving, your swollen parted lips quivering and softly moaning, unraveling from his actions and the efforts of the Champion between your thighs.

Wild was completely in his own world between your legs, his hair draped over them, feather-light, the complete opposite of how his tongue lapped at you, sucking and ravaging you like you were the last meal he would ever eat in this life. His hands were wrapped around your thighs, fingers pressing hard into the soft flesh, pulling your legs further and further apart as he continued to nuzzle his face deeper and deeper into you, your scent filling his lungs as you breathed you in, humming in response of just how good you tasted on his tongue. The small vibrations pulled more soft sounds from you as you began to grind against his mouth, unable to control the small movement of your hips.

You rested your head back against Twilight’s shoulder, feeling the tension rise so quickly again as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, teeth grazing against your skin. It wasn’t long before your nails were digging into their skin, before your back arched off of his chest, and soft cries of pleasure left you, the tension rising and dissipating as you sank back into the bed and Twilight’s chest, riding it out as Wild’s ministrations slowly came to a halt. He looked up at you from below, a mischievous grin still plastered on his face as he kissed your thighs and the marks he’d left behind, Twilight do the same to the ones lining your neck.

It felt so good. It felt heavenly.

#mdni #spicy writing: twilight #spicy writing: wild #lu twilight x reader #lu wild x reader #linked universe x reader

[gloryofroses19]

Of Reunions and Sacred Traditions

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x girlfriend!reader

T/W: Allusions to sex

[y/n] stood back and watched the disembarkation of the Naval carrier. When Bradley had asked her to pick him up a month ago, the idea seemed like a no brainer. 

She missed him; their first two months together were filled with the consistency of seeing each other multiple times a week. She appreciated how Bradley let her maintain her own space but still let her know he was there, even with an ocean dividing them. His words and actions never made her doubt that he missed her too. She smiled at the memory of receiving a “bouquet of books” on a rotten day. With titles named after flowers, Bradley brought a smile to her face using his knowledge of her love of books and disdain for dead flowers. 

But now, a month later and apart she wondered if it was a good idea. Grand gestures, scheduled calls and sporadic texts could only maintain a relationship so much. However, those negative thoughts were dispelled as quickly as an exuberant grin was directed her way. 

If asked, neither Bradley or [y/n] would be able to report who moved to embrace the other first. The recognition and elation of seeing each other in person  overcame the monotony of determining who moved first. 

Giving a final squeeze to her waist, Bradley removed himself from her neck. “Hi,” he breathed out as he got lost in those sparkling [color] eyes.  Bradley felt let the tension leave his shoulders, allowing himself to feel safe since their departure a month ago.

“Hello,” [y/n] giggled out, “It’s nice to see you.” 

Bradley chuckled at the formalities. He would have kissed the hell out of her if it wasn’t for the presence of a certain naval officer. Admiral ‘Iron Blood’ Johnson put Rooster on his shit list for being “a lovesick puppy” a week into detachment. 

“It’s nice to be seen by you.” He responded, leaning in and enjoying the mischievous gleam overtaking her eyes. 

Giving a conspicuous glance to her left and right, [y/n] lowered her voice. “Is the coast clear?” 

When she first heard that Bradley used all his call time up within the first week, she felt bad for her hand in taking away his connection to the mainland. When she heard that he traded his priority shower privileges to gain more, she was completely charmed. Asking him why he had done hadn’t lessened the butterflies now permanently living inside her stomach. If anything, his earnest and heartfelt  “because you’re worth it.”, let them blossom into a wild frenzy. 

With a glance at the retreating naval car, Bradley cradled [y/n] cheek reveling in the warmth and joy he felt able to touch her again. 

“The eagle has flown the nest.” was the last thing his lips uttered before he attached them to hers. [y/n] was lucky enough to say she’d been kissed by Bradley Bradshaw hundreds of times. She’d received kisses that she would describe as sweet, joyful, heated, content. However, the only time she could recall it being hesitant was now and on their first date. 

With a sigh against his lips and the murmur of his name, [y/n] provided the encouragement Bradley needed. Smiling against her lips, his hands burrowed into her hair.  Their lips clung together softly and passionately, speaking of a month of longing and a promise to rectify that.

However, that promise was momentarily broken by a feminine voice. “So this is where you ran off to, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley recovered quickly albeit with a flash of annoyance for the interruption. 

“Darlin’, this is the mood killer of a pilot I was telling you about.” Bradley joked, earning himself a punch to land on his left bicep.

“Phoenix, right?” [y/n] figured the beautiful brunette lieutenant had to be her. One of the few things Bradley could tell her about his job was his coworkers. He always spoke favorably of Phoenix for her intellect, skills and trustworthy nature. Based on Bradley’s reports, [y/n] knew she probably owed Phoenix a lifetime of gratitude for being such a good friend to her boyfriend. 

“Natasha Trace. And you must be [y/n].” Phoenix offered her hand and shook it when [y/n]’s connected with hers. “He didn’t shut up about you the entire time, even after Admiral Johnson had him running extra laps for his ‘pitiful pining’”. Natasha would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about [y/n]. She’d known Rooster for a few years and she had never seen him as grounded or happy as he currently was. 

“I wasn’t aware there was pining.” [y/n] remarked as she peered over her shoulder at Rooster who perched himself there.  

Bradley pressed her to his chest as his arms hugged her waist before kissing her cheek. “I yearned, I burned, I pined.” 

Phoenix shook her head at Rooster theatrics, expecting nothing less from the gregarious pilot. “Is it true you pushed him into the ocean on your first date?” 

Fluttering her lashes at Phoenix, [y/n] replied innocently. “I still maintain he pushed himself.” 

However, the innocence of the statement coupled with the devilish smile on [y/n]’s face lead the trio to break into a waterfall of laughter. 

Phoenix gave [y/n] an appreciative glance once their laughter subsided. “I have a feeling you and I are going to be good friends. Are you guys joining us at the bar?” 

Bradley was grateful that Phoenix and [y/n] were getting along. Phoenix was a close friend to him and he always knew she and [y/n] would hit it off. However, tonight wasn’t the night he wanted to confirm his theory. 

“Stop trying to steal my date, Phoenix. We have French toast to make.” 

“Is that a euphemism for sex?” Came a scream from Phoenix as she watched Rooster guide [y/n] toward the parked cars without even a goodbye or glance back. 

Once Bradley’s duffel bag was stored in her trunk and her boyfriend was seated in the passenger seat, [y/n] turned toward her boyfriend. “Not that I’m complaining either way, but is French toast a euphemism for sex?” 

Bradley leaned his head back against the headrest as his boisterous laughter filled the car. “No! It’s a family tradition that my dad started. I know you like French toast and…” Breaking off suddenly, Bradley took her hand in his before continuing bashfully, “and I wanted to share it with you.” 

Bradley had decided two weeks into detachment that he would share this tradition with [y/n]. The month apart crystalized how much she meant and could mean to him. Bradley always thought of himself as a wingman. To be there for someone in any means and to never asked for anything in return. But [y/n] had shown him how even a wingman needs their own. And she had become that to him, and that security opened the sky of possibilities.

"I'd be honored to." [y/n] spoke softly as if afraid that her voice would break the spell around them.

Bradley raised her hand to his lips and began he brush a flutter of kisses against the back of it. Pausing his kisses, he added cheekily with a wink, “Plus the sex is an added bonus”. 

Returning his cheeky smile, [y/n] raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. “So your place or mine?”

The Sacred Tradition of Cinnamon and Safety is the sequel to this piece

A/N: As usual, I always love feedback and hope you all enjoyed!

Taglist: @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick x reader

[gartenofbanny]

Blitzo and Moxxie's relationship has developed somewhat in Truth Seekers, with both members respecting each other. With Moxxie's trip orchestra confronting an illusion of Blitzo both of them sharing their feelings about their friendship, promising each other that they'll be better, and Moxxie saying that he'll improve on speaking his thoughts.

Once the side effects wore off, Blitzo tells Moxxie that he's hard on him because he knows what Moxxie is capable of. While I do find Blitzo's negativity towards Moxxie to be some sort of tough love to be bullshit, I don't believe that his compliments to Moxxie weren't sincere. Especially the part where Blitzo wants Moxxie to call him "Blitz" instead of "Sir" signifying, to me, that Blitzo wants Moxxie to be more comfortable around him so that he wouldn't lose him. Moxxie never called the people he worked for their actual name up until now which can also be an indicator that Blitzo respects Moxxie more.

And then Season 2 came along and undid all of that development between the two main characters. While they obviously haven't interacted at all in The Circus and barely interacted in Western Energy, I might as well list the things Blitzo did or said to Moxxie starting with Seeing Stars, to EXEs and OHs, and Unhappy Campers.

Blitzo

In Seeing Stars, Blitzo basically insults Moxxie's weight after Loona does the exact same thing

Blitzo calls Moxxie, Millie's "whorebag husband"

In EXES and OHs, Blitzo in annoyance pushes Moxxie out of the helicopter they're in regardless of the fact that Moxxie is shivering in fear

In EXES and OHs, Blitzo threatens Moxxie simply due to the fact that he thinks Moxxie spread rumors about him. Idk why Moxxie was like the first suspect in his head-

In Unhappy Campers, Blitzo literally threatens Moxxie in order for Moxxie to leave his office but he also tells him to handle the task as well. I get that he was frustrated because he was trying to find Barbie Wire for some reason, but I'd think that he would be a bit calmer especially after the talk between the two had.

Blitzo tells Moxxie that he doesn't trust Moxxie with anything because of how he fucks up his job despite telling Moxxie that he does a good job all the way back in Truth Seekers.

Then lastly, Blitzo calls Moxxie a disgrace with no hesitation, but this is pretty understandable because Moxxie did spend an entire fucking week on one mission that usually takes them at most hours to complete.

So, Blitzo in Season 2 hasn't changed in the slightest, he's still the asshole character he is to Moxxie since the beginning with the difference being it isn't shown on screen that much and I'll explain why later on.

Moxxie

While Blitzo's character has stayed mostly the same, Moxxie seems to have regressed heavily instead. Throughout Season 2 he's way more submissive towards Blitzo and more like his lapdog instead of his employee as he does random stuff to please Blitzo.

I am a bit burnt out right now, so I don't feel like providing examples however I will say this. In all of the examples I provided about Blitzo being a bully towards Moxxie especially when Moxxie is on screen, none of them show Moxxie actually talking back to Blitzo. Moxxie just takes it.

In Season 1 he would insult Blitzo back, even though Blitzo always got the last fucking word it shows that Moxxie was willing to stand up for himself against bigger demons. But Moxxie right now is just a pussy. I wish I could be nicer, but comparing Moxxie's personality from Season 1 to Moxxie's personality from Season 2, it's just night and day. Moxxie in Season 1 was more assertive towards assholes even towards the main characters, but Moxxie in Season 2 is more assertive to the antagonists and that's it. Especially when you callback to Truth Seekers when he says himself "Be better at speaking my mind", but he doesn't.

There's also the fact that Moxxie still continues to call Blitzo "sir" even after Blitzo wanted him to call him by his name. I don't believe Moxxie calling Blitzo "Sir" is a subconscious reaction anymore considering the number of times Moxxie calls Blitzo "sir" in Unhappy Campers alone. If Moxxie truly wants to respect Blitzo he'd call Blitzo by his name, hell Blitzo was the one who literally wanted him to call him by his name in Truth Seekers. Because now that I actually look into it further I don't believe it's a subconscious reaction anymore because if it was he would correct himself and call Blitzo "Blitz" so it would seem that he would at least try to respect his "friend".

Conclusion

So yeah, I believe that Moxxie and Blitzo's relationship went from two toxic employees, to them both actually coming to an understanding about each other, to one being a bully and another one being a submissive lapdog who tries to please said bully. That's their relationship as of Season 2 and whatever development they had just fell off a damn cliff and was cremated after the fall.

You guys may remember I said that Blitzo and Moxxie's relationship isn't being shown on screen that much in Season 2, well that's because most of Season 2 has became the Stolitz show with unneeded or more badly written episodes sprinkled inside of it. I'll make a blog about how much of a goddamn mess Stolitz is, but I will say just because the show focuses on it doesn't guarantee that it's going to be written well. Just look at Velma.

Anyway, that's all I have for today. Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day! ❤️

#vivziepop critical #helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #vivienne medrano

[kylobith]

LotR Week - Day 2 (12th Dec)

language | culture | beauty

Word count: 4,197

Under the burning afternoon sun reflecting upon the white city, Faramir emerged from the library, instantly shielding his eyes. Had he truly kept his nose buried in scrolls for so long? When he had entered, it was merely dawn, the palace still lulled in peaceful sleep. Constantly awoken by the tiniest noises and cracks from the hallways or outside, he had stirred out of bed and had decided to do what he did best in such irritating moments.

Studying.

Recently, he had found a plethora of reasons to delve into books again — not that he truly needed any — and learn as much as he could about a realm whose history and people that he admitted to not have paid heed to often enough.

Now that he and Éowyn were married, he felt a pang of guilt for not knowing more than he already did about her kingdom and her kin. Although they were to settle in Ithilien once their new home would be born from the ruins of a previous mansion, Faramir yearned to respect the customs of her land as much as his own within their household.

He was willing to compromise and demonstrate his sense of flexibility. Where their art of guest-receiving would align with Gondor’s standards, he saw no problem with providing a mixed education to the children he hoped to have and raise with her. Often had he pictured it; a blonde little being mounted on horseback with the poise of a court member of King Elessar’s entourage. The child would master Westron and Rohirric at equal level, speak Quenya fluently, and have at least some notions in Sindarin or Dwarvish tongues. They would be both wild and tame, proud of the two united banners of their bloodline.

Sensing that he was getting ahead of himself again, Faramir departed from the archives and set out for the citadel. As he paused to contemplate the breath-taking view upon the Pelennor, one which he should have long grown weary of, he found his mind drifting back to his research.

Rohirric. A language unlike any other that he knew or at least encountered, with its peculiar grammatical structure and malleable word order. For the first time in years, he was facing a barrier between the knowledge he sought and himself, as if the more he read about it and its phonetic system, the less he understood. It was as though he was grappling with a most complex device he needed to unlock, but missed the keys to access even the most basic notions of the dialect that she grew up speaking.

He had considered asking Éowyn directly to teach him, and the thought of having her sit him down at a table whilst happily scribbling away on a piece of parchment to also participate in the recording of Rohan’s oral culture sounded like the best way to ever spend time.

Faramir pictured her hardly-concealed impatience at his mistakes and his horrid accent, typical of beginners. How she would be unable to tame her reactions to spare his feelings, wincing whenever he would say something wrong or pronounced something to the point of complete incomprehension. And he would love every bit of it. She was Éowyn, after all. The fairest maiden he had ever beheld, the one who accepted his hand in marriage and shared his bed ever since the lavish wedding at Edoras.

But he meant for the whole learning process to remain a secret for now. It was all part of the grand gesture he wanted to make for her. He had already planned most of it. At sunset, he would take her to the garden in Minas Tirith, where he had held her hand for the first time. They would watch the golden and rosy hues of the evening sky from underneath the arches, and he would slip a carefully-picked flower into her luscious hair. Then, he would recite a love poem he would have written in her language, ending it with a simple sentence reflecting his adoration for her, and making a point of how beautiful she was to him.

If he finally managed to grasp the quirks of Rohirric, that is. Aware that each language reflects the culture of those who speak it, he needed to put himself in the boots of a Rohir, but he could not wrap his head around the way that they thought, the way that they felt and experienced the world around them. Something as simple as the subtlety of terms and the connotations of certain phrases eluded him.

He had seldom ridden through the plains and valleys of Rohan. Its landscape, although now somewhat familiar, remained a great mystery to him. Having lived all his life in Gondor, he had enjoyed the privilege of encountering visitors from nearly all over Middle-earth, engaging in hours-long conversations with them, but he had never known the challenge of settling down in a foreign land and immersing himself in another way of life. Faramir had offered to stay in Edoras until their Ithilien home was ready to welcome them; he would have gladly helped Éomer in his new role as king, to provide him with wise counsel and serve as mediation with Gondor.

But Éowyn had refused. While she was elated to have wed him in the heart of the colourful Meduseld, she was eager to start this new chapter in her life, to leave her past behind and begin her assimilation to Gondorian culture. Perhaps she was braver than he had ever been in this regard, he thought. There had been no hesitation on her part, and he had assumed that she would have wished to stay in Rohan longer in hopes to make a difference in the treatment of women. Or, more realistically, she would have barked at her brother until he would yield and introduce new laws while getting rid of archaic ones.

As he entered the Hall of the Kings, Faramir faced the two empty thrones ahead of him. Aragorn must be attending another council meeting in a different part of the citadel, he thought. It did seem rather strange to him that the hall was left vacant; what if somebody entered to beg for help? Would they even be heard?

A rustle coming from his right alerted him that he was not alone after all. Under the arches, studying one of the statues with passive interest, stood the king of Rohan himself, clad in his armour, yet comfortable enough to let his guard down.

‘Éomer, my brother!’ he exclaimed, walking up to him with a beaming smile and open arms.

The king pivoted and his stern expression softened upon seeing his sister’s husband. He indulged him to a warm embrace and patted the prince’s arm rather harshly, but the latter paid it no mind.

‘I did not know you were visiting!’ Faramir said, surprised to see him in Minas Tirith at all, especially in the empty hall. ‘Has anybody been notified of your presence? Have you been assigned quarters for your stay?’

‘Yes, yes, don’t worry. I wanted to enjoy a bit of peace before being swarmed with servants and diplomats.’

Faramir laughed and shook his head. He would have felt exactly the same way, had fate been different and had he become Steward in his father’s stead.

‘Does Éowyn know that you are here?’

‘Not yet. Ah, she will find out soon enough.’

‘Are you not eager to see her?’ he inquired, his curiosity piqued. ‘If you do not send for her, you know that you will hear about it until you are on your deathbed.’

Éomer laughed and responded with a simple shrug. Faramir invited him to his office so they could both sit down and share news of their respective lives. How things had changed! After the pouring of wine and the exchange of pleasantries, the prince noticed that he had left some of the borrowed scrolls from the library wide open onto the desk. Unwilling to stain them with spilled wine or ink, he began to roll them up again, but their content did not escape Éomer’s notice, who squinted at the writings.

‘That is Rohirric!” he noted with a pleased expression. ‘Are you studying our tongue, brother?’

Faramir blushed and sheepishly nodded his head. He hoped that Éomer would not start questioning him about his knowledge, since he still considered it to be awfully vague.

‘Indeed. I wish for our household to be shaped by Rohirric and Gondorian customs alike. Éowyn is my equal, she should not forsake her culture for my own, even now that she came to live in my land.’

‘How’s the learning so far?’

‘Not great.’

He placed the secured scrolls onto a nearby shelf, away from the dangers of clumsiness, and returned to his chair, picking up his goblet.

‘I cannot seem to wrap my head around the way that your people see and write about the world. Do you see the same things that we Gondorians do? Do you see the bud of a flower and feel the promise of a fruitful spring to come?’

Éomer snorted and chugged the rest of his wine in one, large gulp.

‘You are overthinking it, Faramir,’ he said in reassurance. ‘The Rohirrim are not as complicated as you think. We do not need a hundred words to describe a tree.’

With Faramir’s permission, Éomer helped himself to another cup, stretching out his legs in front of him.

‘See us as more… practical people. Where you might look at this desk and say “Here stands the pillar of knowledge, the support of my hours of contemplation and meditation, the theatre of my duty and of my wit, where justice is served and culture preserved,” us Rohirrim would just say…’

The king waved his hand with raised eyebrows towards the piece of furniture in brief silence.

‘“It’s a desk.”’

Faramir chuckled and sipped the deep burgundy nectar.

‘Well, you sound well-learned in Gondorian phrases and imagery,’ he teased.

‘That happens when your brother-in-law keeps pestering my men about lore, poetry and song whenever he visits Edoras.’

Their shared laughter fills the room and instantly brings more warmth to it. The new prince of Ithilien stared at his working table in deep contemplation and pondered Éomer’s words. It’s just a desk. And indeed, it was, but could there not be more to it?

There it was again, his damned eternal Gondorian perspective.

Faramir tapped his fingertips against his goblet and reclined in his seat.

‘What makes your people so practical indeed?’

‘You are asking the wrong person, brother. I can’t say that I have much interest in knowing about such things. But the way I see it, it has something to do with our lack of documentation. Our stories, our tales, our history… We share them orally. We don’t value written records the way that your kin do. I suppose that we do need to keep it simple so our message and our motivations do not get lost in translation and interpretation. Besides, we see beauty in simplicity.’

‘Is it so?’

It made sense to him. Éomer might not have been raised a scholar, but his argument seemed to have opened Faramir’s eyes to something he had never even suspected. Of course, he had forgotten about the risks of oral tradition! How many names, accounts and legacies had been misshapen by the trials of time? By the innocent romanticisation of narration at the detriment of facts?

Faramir drank his wine pensively and glanced at his guest. Perhaps he could let him in on his little quest. After all, Éomer was great at keeping secrets, and he spoke the language he sought to master.

‘Éomer, I wish to learn Rohirric for Éowyn. I want her to feel at home wherever she goes, and I want her to feel understood. I have been trying to teach myself in secret for weeks, but it seems that the more I learn, the less I know.’

His brother-in-law curved his eyebrows in surprise — although he did not expect any less of Faramir. The king put down his cup and opened his hands.

‘I am a warrior, not a scholar. But I suppose that if there’s anything you wish to know, perhaps I can help.’

His host beamed at the offer and put his cup aside as well. He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, propping up the sheet on his knee with a thick volume on the history of scientific innovations of the Haradrim.

‘There is one notion that seems to differ much between our mentalities,’ he started, ‘and it is this of beauty. You said that your kin find beauty in simplicity, but what else? How do you express it?’

‘Oh, well, we feel connected to the earth and fire, where Gondorians evoke air and water to us. Any aspect of our world that we find attractive, we connect to these two elements. We like what is grounded as much as we like that which is fiery. Many of our sayings and expressions comprise these themes, when they don’t revolve around horses.’

Not wasting a single second, Faramir scribbles away, his brow furrowed in concentration. Earth. Fire. Noted.

‘Do you have vocabulary with elemental connotations to describe something you find pretty?’

‘Yes, we do,’ Éomer answers before marking a pause, seeking examples. ‘When we mean to say that someone is as beautiful as the sun, we say sunne fyrna. Burning like the sun. Like they radiate light.’

Rejoiced at the idea that he might have found something to use to compliment Éowyn, he continued to take notes, guessing the spelling from the rules he had read about.

‘Is it a powerful way to compliment somebody’s beauty?’

‘Yes, and no. It can be overused.’

‘Oh.’

Éomer chuckled and drank another gulp of wine, before scratching his beard. He pictured his sister and tried to imagine how she would like to be complimented by Faramir. Not how anybody else might, but which words she would value from his mouth. Then, with a smile, he held out his hand for Faramir’s quill, and his brother-in-law did not hesitate to lend it to him, alongside the parchment.

Not quite used to writing, Éomer’s trembling hand formed a few words onto the paper and showed it to his host.

‘This is the highest compliment that Rohirric women could ever hear. If you wish for Éowyn to fall for you all over again, this is your key. But let me warn you: do not blame me if her bairn sees the light of day nine months after you say it to her,’ he winked.

A few days later, once Éomer had departed Minas Tirith to return to Rohan, Faramir approached Éowyn and tenderly wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the back of her head. Despite the tears of sorrow from seeing her brother leave again, she allowed herself to smile and turned in his embrace to place a tender kiss upon his lips.

‘How about you and I have a walk in the garden at sunset?’ he murmured, his fingers weaving through her golden hair.

‘I would rather stay at home, if you don’t mind,’ she said with a sniffle. ‘How about we sit by the fire and you read to me again? I love hearing you tell stories.’

Faramir’s disappointment was powerless compared to the thrill that invaded him to know that she enjoyed listening to his tales. So, he gladly accepted, but still took the time left that day to pick the most beautiful flowers at the market for her, as well as her favourite Gondorian pastries.

When the fire crackled in the hearth of their home, Faramir entered the room, finding her already nestled onto a chair, her eyes admiring the dancing of the flames. Éomer was right; the Rohirrim were particularly bound to this element.

And now, he found beauty in it, too. Perhaps not like a Rohir would, but he did.

He found elegance and refinement in the way that it illuminated her delicate traits, her chiselled cheeks and the lovely dimple on her chin that he so often kissed. In its halo, the fairness of her hair glowed and radiated like the summer sun and the bright moon had come together in one. Her thin, pale hand rested onto her lap, only adorned by her wedding band. It was the perfect image; the love of his life in the firelight, making him fall head over heels all over again.

Faramir stepped inside ever so calmly, holding the flowers in his hand. Éowyn, alerted by the soft footsteps, turned to him and instantly smiled.

‘Fari, are those for me?’

He nodded, mirroring her grin and brushing his fingertips against her cheek. He came to one knee before her, admiring her with the most loving eyes that any being would be graced with.

‘Beautiful flowers for my most precious lady. My gorgeous wife.’

She chuckled and leant closer to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a tender kiss. Then, she took the flowers and admired them with her lips parted in awe.

‘They are perfect! Thank you. Let me find a vase for them.’

‘Do this, and I shall find a book for us to enjoy.’

They parted ways with another kiss and joined again after a few minutes. Faramir sat on the chair by the fireplace and patted his knee. Éowyn kicked off her slippers and sat in his lap, tying her wrists around his neck and resting her head in its crook. He opened the book and proceeded to read a tale of romance, the type that they had both come to appreciate more ever since their first encounter.

As he spoke the words in his solemn and affectionate voice, his eyes losing themselves in hers every so often, she felt her heart slowing down. Passion that causes one’s heart to race at the sole sight of one’s lover sure is pleasant; but to her, there was much greater satisfaction in finding a person with whom one feels so at ease and at peace that their heart would feel tranquil at last.

When the story came to a close, Faramir felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. Now was the time to surprise her. He had written the poem with Éomer to help him translate his feelings in the Rohirric tongue, and his brother-in-law had provided with ample wordings and phrases for him to convey his affection for his wife.

But now that he had to recite it, he found himself at a loss. None of the words remained within reach. They eluded him every time that he thought he could reshape one of the verses. Oh, what to do?

Well, he would have to do what he always did in unforeseen circumstances as a Ranger. Improvise. At the very least, he could remember the loose vocabulary. He could manage to simply tell her that she is beautiful. That was easy.

Closing the book and placing it on the rug, Faramir held his beloved wife’s hand and stroked its smooth skin. Lost in her deep eyes, he let the words overcome him. He let them invade every piece of himself that was not already conquered by the sight he beheld.

‘Éowyn,’ he intoned with a lovestruck voice, ‘leofest wife min, is éosgitan prættigre thonne thé.’

Éowyn froze, her eyes round as marbles and her jaw slacked. Faramir beamed with pride at the sheer surprise upon his wife’s face. But when her bewilderment turned into a deep frown, his exaltation swiftly came to an end.

‘Did I mispronounce something?’

She blinked a few times before rolling her eyes to the ceiling with a groan. The tension in her shoulders decreased, until she met his gaze once more.

‘Did Éomer teach you this?’

‘Well, yes. I have been studying Rohirric for the past weeks, but I needed his help. I wrote you a whole poem, but as soon as I looked into your eyes, I… I could not retrieve the words and I felt rather foolish. So, I used the other words he taught me to compliment your beauty.’

Faramir ran a hand through his hair, rather embarrassed. Surely, if this was her reaction, he had done it all wrong.

‘Was my pronunciation that horrendous?’

Éowyn laughed and pecked his cheek.

‘No, my love,’ she consoled him. ‘If you need advice about learning Rohirric, here it is: never trust Éomer. What he taught you means that horseshit is prettier than me.’

‘Oh. OH. No, no, this was not my intention at all! I…’

‘Calm down, Fari. I figured as much.’

He sighed in relief and wrapped his arms around her waist.

‘Why would he do such a thing?’

‘He’s a big brother. That is what big brothers do.’

‘Boromir never…’

‘My love, from all the things I have heard about him, I can assure you that Boromir was no typical older sibling. Siblings bicker, they fight over the pettiest thing. Éomer and I often shouted death threats to one another!’

Faramir blanched and shook his head in disbelief. He could not fathom Boromir ever uttering such calamities to him. But come to think of it, his father had done that aplenty in his stead.

‘I see. Well… I apologise for my words. I never meant to insult you.’

‘I know, Fari, you do not need to reassure me. Take it easy on yourself. Éomer took advantage of your cluelessness about our tongue to trick you. In a way, I think it comforts me into thinking that he sees you as his brother now. Not only did he gratuitously insulted me through you, but he also played a trick on you to embarrass you without harm.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Oh, yes. He would not do that to just anyone.’

The pair exchanged a loving smile and indulged into a slow kiss. When their lips parted, Éowyn instantly forgot the incident and traced his jaw and chin with the tip of her nail.

‘So, you said that you are learning Rohirric? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I wanted to surprise you. I wrote a poem in your language for you, and I meant to recite it in the garden at sunset. But since you preferred to stay at home, I wanted to pronounce it here instead. Again, I forgot all of it. But I have it written in my office. Now, I do not know how much of it I can trust.’

‘You had Éomer translate it with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Expect the lewdest things, then. But I will read it, if you allow me. Perhaps he did grow some common sense and actually did a good job. You can never know, with him.’

She peppered his face with kisses, causing him to blush and giggle. Oh, how he loved it when she made him drop his guard and made him giddy with the simplest of gestures. None other could bring him to such heights.

‘Min se swetesta sunnan scima,’ she murmured into his ear.

‘Wait,’ he exclaimed, perking up. ‘Sunnan… It is the sun, is it not?’

‘See? You know more than you think.’

Faramir grinned from ear to ear in victory. At last! He had understood a spoken word! He felt like a child whose arrow reached the target for the first time. It did not matter whether he did not hit bullseye; he had reached it.

‘But what does it mean?’

‘It means “my sweetest sunbeam”. And seeing you now, I believe that it could not fit you more.’

He chuckled and cupped her face, gently tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs.

‘What word is there in the Rohirric tongue to describe what I feel when I see you?’

‘Your words were spot-on.’

‘Come on,’ he playfully groaned, rolling his eyes. ‘You know that I was the mere victim of a crude trick. I want, no, I need, a word to express the fact that you are my most precious treasure. A gem I shall never tire to behold. One I seldom dare to touch with my rough fingers out of fear that I might shatter you.’

Éowyn flushed red yet did not avert her gaze. She stroked his hair and sighed.

‘Sincroden.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Sincroden. It means “treasure-adorned”. Many maidens of the Rohirrim dream to have a man address them as such.’

A shy smile played on his lips as he registered the information. He shifted a little on his seat and, sensing her slipping off his lap, he held her knees firmly and pulled her back onto him, pressing her to his chest.

‘Sinchroden wife min.’

The twinkle in Éowyn’s eyes betrayed the bursting joy within her thundering heart. Once again, she bestowed him with a most tender kiss, and none of them let go for the rest of the evening. Clad in the flames’ cast orange hues, they no longer needed words to convey their devotion to each other. They spoke the universal and unspoken language of bewitched hearts, eyelashes grazing their cheeks and the caress of their mouths the only syllables they required.

#Please do not proofread my Old English lmao #I had to rely on online sources and my two textbooks #Then I had to tweak stuff to make it sound Rohirric #Faramir #Éowyn #Eowyn #Farawyn #lotrweek #Lord of the Rings #Éomer #Eomer #Rohan #Gondor #Rohanese #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #fanfiction

[decaffedthoughts]

Firsts and Flowers

pairing: non idol sana x gender neutral reader

word count: 4.6k

fluff and a touch of angst

summary: scenes from yours and sana’s relationship firsts, accompanied by the bouquets you bring to each, from introduction to anniversaries and beyond.

a/n: guess who’s back! i do have specific photos for what sana is wearing for every single scene lol, ask me if you’re interested. low/no plot, just me fawning because i am down horrid for sana. this is for clownracha’s may prompt, flower language

First date

Bouquet: white roses, calla lily, hibiscus

Her number had come through a mutual friend, Bang Chan. A former coworker of yours and a current coworker of hers. You'd heard her name a few times through him but not much else. Chan knew practically everyone in the damn country, or at least seemed to at times, so you trusted that he could tell who was similar and who would work well together, at least as well as one human could.

So, you sent a small "hello" to the provided number that night.

Hello

Is this Sana? Chan gave me your number

Sana speaking

And who might you be

The first tricky part of meeting someone was completed. Now it was just the other hard part of staying in touch. It was a Friday, so both of you were relatively free to text late into the night, not needing to worry about your semi-soul-crushing schedule ruining the night. At some point, you realized you'd never seen her face and decided to shoot your shot for a selfie. You told her to choose whatever she pleased, hoping it's not too glamourized to make you unintentionally feel wrong in your chip-dusted sweatpants.

In the end, nothing could have prepared you. Sana was clearly in lounge clothes, she might have even taken it right before sending it to you, but she was still the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen. Maybe it was because she was not some high-held celebrity that hardly seemed human, but something about her still felt otherworldly.

Your sleepiness allowed much of that sentiment to flow through your texts, which you could worry about later. For now, it was simply wondering how Chan could have set you up like that without warning. You'd be sure to get him back for that somehow. Your attention diverted from revenge plans back to Sana when she sent a simple question mark, and you realized that the effusive praise was simply a draft.

Sorry you broke my brain by being wildly gorgeous

Did you take that just now?

Mhm

Decided you were special enough to get a never before seen picture

Chan likes everyone, but he doesn't keep everyone around

It's almost annoying how many friends he has

I can barely have a public conversation with him, I swear

It was easy like that for weeks. One text every few hours, or on lucky days a spree of a few hours with just a minute or two between responses. It progressed to something other than simply friendship feelings for you. Could you continue to be friends if that invitation was rejected or didn't work out? Sure, but you wanted to try, and I hope that Sana feels that same feeling too.

Hey

Do you want to get dinner with me next week?

Are you asking me on a date? Spicy

Give me the details

You did, and she agreed. It felt unreal. Maybe she didn't have the same feelings yet, or maybe she did, but it seemed she was at least open to them. Next week was far enough away that it gave you enough time to adequately plan everything, but now the same date was too far away, and each minute of waiting seemed to drag on.

As time does, it passed, and the day arrived in front of you. Sana's apartment was closer to the restaurant, so you agreed to meet there and walk over. You ended up very early due to sheer nervousness and saw a flower shop not far away. Not wanting to show up that early, you headed over but only planned to look.

Almost immediately, many of the flowers caught your eye, and you rethought that "just looking" idea. Deciding that the cashier would likely know more than you do, you headed up to them.

"Hey, any good recommendations for a first date? Kinda impromptu, so I don't have much time." You explained to them, Dongmin, according to the name tag.

They nodded and took you around the shop, picking up a few flowers and explaining their meanings. You checked the time and had a few extra minutes, especially if you walked quickly. On the way out, you thanked Dongmin, and they wished you good luck on the date. You smiled, fresh white bouquet in hand. Maybe you could come back if all went well.

Steadying your shaking hand and knocking on the door correctly took you a moment. Before properly taking in Sana, you shoved the bouquet toward her. You knew you might end up stunned by her, so you took a moment before it happened. When you finally got the courage to open your eyes, you were more right than you knew.

Her hair was now a soft purple, tied up by a large black bow. She wore a shoulderless black sweater under her blue-gray dress, and, as predicted, you just couldn't stop staring. Silently, which may have made her a little nervous or uneasy, admittedly, but what words could you use to describe the practical angel in front of you? And she wanted to go on a date with you? She took the bouquet with gratitude and a smile, bidding you wait a moment while she put it in a vase. There wasn't much else for you to do or anywhere to go, so you inspected what you could see of her apartment from the doorway. When she returned, she held out the flowers in a large jar, notably not a vase.

She laughed sheepishly as you stared, "People don't really give me flowers, so I didn't plan for this. More about the flowers than the container, right?"

You didn't have an answer, so you just nodded because they looked perfectly fine in the jar. You were more surprised that people didn't give her flowers often. If you had to guess, you would have said she had a long line of suitors waiting to give her gifts. Maybe she did, and they just weren't partial to flowers. It was the only thing that made sense; Sana was too beautiful not to give gifts to.

You walked down the street together, unpopulated since it hadn't warmed up too much. Despite having only text conversations to that point, your conversation flowed well, and the silences were short but comfortable. Each of you had various ideas and stories to share. Walking down the street also provided plenty of distractions for you both, mainly in the form of cute animals needing the time to be outside.

It passed in what feels like no time at all. And the meal went just as fast. The food was acceptable, but you knew that wouldn't be what you remembered regardless. Instead, you noted how Sana's face lit up when she laughed or how shyly she reacted when you complimented her, among other things. Surprisingly, she retaliated on the compliments quickly, smirking when you responded.

Honestly, you didn't see the sun setting in the window, nor the number of people that entered and exited as you sat there talking. As expected, a waiter came over eventually, asking if you wanted to pay. You almost didn't notice them in the middle of a story of one of your coworkers nearly destroying the microwave.

For a few minutes, you gathered up everything and left, but the moment you were back outside, you began to laugh together again. That seemed to be the theme of that first date, and there was no reason you could find to complain about it. It was significantly darker that time, which removed your visibility of Sana's face, but it made it easier to step closer and feel the backs of your hands brushing as you walked. You didn't know who finally made the move to intertwine your fingers, but neither stopped to comment, simply enjoying the moment and letting it breathe. Her hand was soft, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to be able to hold it as often as you wanted in the future.

You arrived at her doorway faster than you had expected and far quicker than you wanted to. After a few minutes of awkward and stuttered goodbyes, Sana took a step forward and briefly hesitated before pressing a kiss on your cheek. When she stepped back, she opened her mouth to say something, but you felt a small and uncontrollable smile spread across your lips. She must have seen it because she closed her mouth and gave you a small smile. Each of you whispered a final goodbye before you turned and headed back down the hallway.

First makeup

Bouquet: chamomile, zinnia, lotus flower

It wasn't a fight about something stupid; you had learned better than to minimize your own feelings by now, but it was something that didn't need to be a fight at all. One or maybe a few conversations, and you could have worked it out together. Instead, you held it in because of a misguided vision of being a "good" and "unproblematic" partner, especially this early in your relationship. Eventually, as should be expected, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You felt that Sana didn't set aside enough time to text you or text you back during the day, and she was equally unavailable on some nights. On the weekends, she was much more active in calling or texting you. But other times, she could be virtually unreachable for hours.

You could hardly remember what had set you off just a few minutes later. The more you walked and thought, the more embarrassed you became. Here you were, with an adult job and living independently, yet you still didn't communicate properly with your girlfriend.

Without really realizing it, you had walked the reverse path you usually did. That time from Sana's door to the flower shop you often visited. You walked in, unsure if you wanted to buy anything, but simply being around nature was calming.

Ultimately, you decided it couldn't hurt to show up at her apartment with a bouquet. Along with a heartfelt apology and readiness to communicate, pretty flowers always help. So you asked the cashier if there was a common "after a fight" bouquet or flower they might recommend.

It took a few minutes of searching, in which you stewed in your thoughts even more, but they did come back. The chamomile and the lotus were instantly recognizable, even to you. And the other one was a white zinnia. Or was it a zinnia? You couldn’t remember, but it was a pretty flower and fit perfectly with the calm white theme.

You distracted yourself on the way back by constantly fiddling with the flower petals and placements, not wanting to think about what you'd do in a few minutes. What would you do if Sana turned you away or didn't open the door? You'd have to leave the flowers, text her that they're there, and hope she reads them rather than just swiping them away. You wouldn't blame her if she did, but you'd continue hoping for the best.

You knocked hesitantly and waited, scuffing your foot along the floor. Mercifully, she opened the door, but her face fell slightly when she properly saw you.

"You're not my kimchi jjigae." She said simply.

You winced. Kimchi jjigae was a spicy comfort food for her, so it must have hurt her more than you thought.

"I'm not. I hope you'll let me apologize anyways. I'm sorry for not talking about any of my problems before they exploded. I didn't want to cause any problems so early into our relationship, and I wasn't sure what you would think if I did. Clearly, this was worse, and now I seem immature as well. It doesn't have to be right now, but I hope you can forgive me."

You chewed and pulled at your bottom lip as you waited for her to answer, and her face was impressively smooth and impassive.

"I'll need more time to move on, but I forgive you. Come in, and I'll tell you how to make it up to me."

You perked up significantly and followed her inside as quickly as you could.

"Yes, ma'am! Thank you, baby. I'm sorry again."

"First step in making it up to me. Stop apologizing."

First birthday together

Bouquet: yellow tulip, yellow jasmine, dwarf sunflower

It was Sana's first birthday while she was with you, and it was a big moment. You wanted to get a gift that she liked and made the day worth her while. It was mid-winter, so flowers were generally out of season, but that wouldn't stop you. Quite the opposite even. You'd be going for a yellow bouquet to mimic a piece of the sunshine that you were so missing during these months. It included some dwarf sunflowers, which, despite the name, were still relatively large and perfect for your idea.

It was technically a late birthday gift and date, as her friends got the first pick for surprising her on the day of. Genuinely, it was more than worth it. You had shown up for a date as if you weren't taking her directly to them when they were simply waiting just around the corner, almost literally, just behind a curtain in the private area of the restaurant. She had left your side to greet them almost immediately, though not without a small kiss full of gratitude first. It didn't bother you at all, her friends were all wonderful people, and she looked radiant as she took in the whole scene. When you left for the night, she had complained about her cheeks hurting from smiling so much, but even the whole way home, she couldn't stop gushing and giggling about it all.

So, you simply sat back and listened, nodding even though you were sure she wasn't paying attention to you. You knew you'd get her full attention the next day regardless. Though when you returned to her apartment, you told her how beautiful she looked so happy, which only made her laugh again and jokingly swat at your arm.

She joked about it again the next day, asking if you were taking her on a date this time or if you'd secretly bring her to see her family. Honestly, it wasn't a bad idea for a future birthday, but you didn't say that, only repeating the idea in your mind to return to later.

The aquarium was rather crowded when you got there, with many people having the same idea. A weekend, insulated from the cold, and a generally nice place for a date. Of course, you had been expecting this, so it didn't ruin your experience entirely, even if it made moving around and looking at the tanks a little more difficult.

You'd been to an aquarium on a previous date, it was hard to come up with wholly original date ideas all the time, but this one was much bigger. That experience helped you know that Sana's reactions would be much more entertaining to watch than the fish ever could be. She had a perpetual curiosity and affection for the creatures of the world that you never got tired of. One of her many admirable and adorable traits. If you got into all that, you could be there all day.

The water shimmered and moved, entrancing patterns across the angles of her face, and you truly couldn't look away even if you wanted to. After watching the school of fish moving in inscrutable patterns, she finally noticed you staring at her and started pouting and whining.

"Look at the fish! Aquarium time, baby!" She took your hand and dragged you closer to the glass, forcibly turning your head with a pout every time you tried to rotate it back and look at her.

Eventually, you accepted the motion and stared at the fish, slowly separating your mind from all the people you knew were there and immersing yourself in the sight. Of course, Sana began to get impatient and tugged on your hand again after a while. You snapped out of your haze and followed wherever she planned to go next. Planning was evidently a generous word, as you were sure she was just walking to whatever caught her fancy as she saw it, but you would have followed her anywhere by then.

Much of the time passed like that: watching Sana and then watching the fish at her urging before she saw something new and exciting and dragged your stumbling self behind her. You wouldn't even dream of having it any other way.

You told her you wanted to take a slight detour on the way back. You didn't tell her where, but it wasn't like the florist was overly exciting by now. Or, it wasn't for you, but Sana's previously mentioned affection for the world often extended to plants as well. Especially very pretty plants like all the flowers hung up in that shop. You freed her to wander around as she pleased while you headed up to grab your pre-ordered bouquet. It was even prettier than you thought it would be.

"Princess!" You called out to her and heard Sana's shoes hitting the floor a moment later.

"Baby?" She asked before seeing the bouquet in your hands and running the last few steps.

"Oh, it's so pretty! My personal sunshine for the winter months, I love it." She took the bouquet from you and stared at it, sighing dreamily.

The walk back to her apartment was filled with her softly stroking the flowers, sighing, and several instances of her almost tripping. You very nearly teased her for it, but it was hard to when it happened because she was too busy staring at something you bought her.

She thanked you one more time at her door with a small kiss, and you were left staring at her door with a little dopey smile.

First anniversary

Bouquet: daisy, hibiscus, white jasmine

It was hard to believe a year had passed with Sana at your side. At that point, something very obvious first came to mind to commemorate the occasion. Buy a new bouquet. They were a nice way to celebrate big events and a reminder of you that Sana could look at every day, even if you couldn't be there with her. After confirming they would work with flower meanings, you decided to ask the florist for a bouquet meaning something like "love for a beautiful person." It was the one major descriptor that came to mind when you thought of your girlfriend. She was beautiful in every way, inside and out.

In the last few years, so much had happened, individually and together, but the excitement of knocking on her apartment door was always the same for you. Sometimes, between the moments of knocking and Sana answering, you daydream about when you wouldn't have to knock on this door at all. You would plan a day and simply see Sana emerge from behind a door while you waited. Or maybe you would make her wait for you. Whatever the situation, you longed for the day that you could share more time and space with her.

For now, the excitement remained. When Sana opened the door that time, you were more than excited, you were shocked. She opened the door, peeked around it, and you saw her hair was pink! You gasped and pushed in to get a proper look at her. As if the sight was unbelievable, you reached out and ran a small amount through your fingers, but the color stayed the same. It was a delicate floral pink, and it made her shine. Maybe you should go away for a few days more often if something like that was going to happen. As soon as you thought it, you knew that was unsustainable because you couldn't even imagine being away for that long now, and certainly not by choice.

"I love it. You're gorgeous. And happy anniversary, I love you." You stepped forward and rested your hands on her hips, practically hypnotized by the smile your words brought forth.

"My beloved," she crooned, holding you close. "Happy anniversary to us, the first of many, I'm sure."

You stood there for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other's presence before you had to leave and face the wide world once more. Thankfully, when you stepped back, you could survey her outfit. You didn't have to, as you could be sure she looked great, but then again, why wouldn't you? A simple black outfit, a skirt with a little pearl belt, and knee-high black boots. But you processed all that fairly quickly, though with some needed appreciation for her legs, because you were drawn back to her bright hair falling down her shoulders.

The way Sana giggled made you sure she noticed, but if she didn't expect that much reaction, you clearly hadn't shown your appreciation for everything about her well enough thus far.

Sometimes you thought your relationship became a little routine, which was comforting in its own way, and wondered if you and Sana could even surprise each other anymore. Well, this was proof that you most certainly could.

If it were someone else, or maybe some time else, you might have been concerned about someone trying to make a move on her. By then, you were confident and secure enough. She had told you that when she dressed up, it was for herself and maybe for you. And if anyone else had the gall to approach her, she was generally quick to rebuff them and point you out as her loving, doting, and sole partner. Although there had been a few times she'd let them keep trying for laughs as you looked on from a few feet away. It was mostly fun to watch the excitement dull as they realized she was not some doll to bend to their whims but a strong-willed and opinionated person.

Thankfully, tonight no one like that should bother you. It was a little cliche, but you returned to the restaurant of your first date, and it felt like stepping back in time. The place wasn't popular enough to have the money for major renovations, but it was popular enough that it was well-maintained and looked practically the same as you remembered it.

It wasn't private by any means, but that worked to your advantage as you and Sana spent about an hour scoping out passers-by and making up stories about what they might be doing. You both started pretty regular, but as time passed, you both came up with more ridiculous possibilities that sent you both into giggling fits.

The sunset, and eventually, you both had to leave. Not because you were disturbing people but because you had other exciting places to be. Or you might have planned for that, but Sana immediately turned back towards her apartment, pulling you behind her. When you wordlessly expressed your shock and confusion, she giggled.

"Listen, I had fun, but I'm tired and don't want you to leave yet. I mean, you can if you want, but I want you to come with me."

"No! I wanna go with you; we can do whatever you want at your apartment. It's our anniversary until I leave."

You walked the rest of the way back in happy, companionable silence. As soon as you got in the elevator, you drifted towards each other, pressing as much of yourselves together as possible. Of course, you reached her floor all too quickly, but Sana didn't hesitate to pull you forward, clearly excited as a puppy for whatever she had planned behind her apartment door. And you followed dopily, endlessly drawn into her gravity.

First proposal

It is the height of summer, but thankfully there is a light and cool breeze for your picnic today. Sweating through the heat is not generally attractive. Sana is wearing a rather casual outfit filled with bright yellow and pink for the summer, topped off by heart jewelry she had bought on a previous date. You've got a camera bag slung over your shoulder, with the excuse that it's just a nice day and you want some pictures. In reality, you want something like a proposal to be captured with something better than a phone camera. Which is all well and good if she says yes, but that inevitably leads to what will happen if she says no. No, you will not psych yourself out 2 minutes before you need to leave.

To your credit, it's a cute ass picnic date, even without the promise of a later proposal in your mind. You spend it talking about nothing, asking benign questions, and hardly paying attention to the answer because you could be entranced by your pretty girlfriend instead. It's a beautiful arrangement.

The sun is still high and hot in the sky, but when you look at Sana, it simply feels right. So you stand up and reach a hand out to her.

"Will you come with me, princess? I have a place I want to show you." You say.

The place is not the thing of importance that you want to show her, but she doesn't need to know that yet. A small clearing dotted by flowers and a surprising lack of weeds. You put the bouquet and the basket down while she looks around and peers at every type of flower.

"Baby?" You call, and she comes bounding back to you, her smile wide and eyes gleaming.

"Yes, darling?"

"The bouquet. The white roses you may recognize from our first date, where I ambitiously got them as a sign of new beginnings. I wanted so badly to know you better and hoped I could convince you to stay. I'm so glad that whatever I did or said worked. The little ones are yarrow for everlasting love. Which I hope we have because I can't imagine life without you now, and I hope I never see what it's like. Honeysuckle are the spindly ones poking out the sides, and they're for the bonds of love. For me, that is not a duty to stay but rather an agreement that we both have made and wish to stick to. And the firework-like ones are myrtle, but there's something else I have to do first."

There's no grand reaction, so you don't think Sana has caught on to you yet. Or if she has, she is holding her emotions in very well. You reach into a tiny pocket at the bottom of your camera bag and pull out the small blue box. There's no hiding what it is, so you turn and push out one knee. And the way her face scrunches as she bursts into a strange combination of tears and smiles is the picture that will be etched into your mind forever.

"The myrtle means love in a marriage, which I believe we could have for the rest of our lives if you would like. So, Minatozaki Sana, will you marry me?"

"Oh goodness, of course I will! I'm too in love to ever dream of saying no, and how dare you think otherwise."

You laugh through what may be your own tears; no one can confirm nor deny and wonder how you could have believed otherwise. You've never felt this happy before, and you won't likely have many moments better than this one, if any.

"I love you, princess. I love you so much."

"And you better keep loving me. You're stuck me to you now, and I'm not letting go."

"I would never want you to."

#sana x reader #sana fluff #minatozaki sana fluff #twice fluff #twice x reader #clownracha prompt #clownracha monthly prompt #my writing

[steddie-there]

Eddie hates working retail. Hates it.

To be fair, the record store is definitely better than, say, an ice cream shop in a newly opened mall. At least he gets first crack at all the new music and merch they get in.

And his boss is really chill, letting him choose the store music and goof off when there are no customers around and giving him time off whenever he needs it, so that helps. Dave's a good manager.

And the pay is decent, enough to cover the basics so Steve only has to work very part time while he's getting his degree. And Eddie is grateful for that, to be able to provide so Steve can focus on his classes. He'd decided he wanted to be a social worker and Eddie couldn't be prouder.

But, Jesus H. Christ, the customers. He has never encountered so many entitled assholes in his entire life - and that includes nearly the entirety of Hawkins hunting him down for murders he didn't commit.

Just today - five people insisting they'd seen a record in stock a week or a month or a year ago that Eddie knows they've never had, all of them arguing when he gently explained that couldn't be the case, three of them demanding to speak with the manager. Then there was the dad who let his toddler run rampant through the store, pulling out record after record and leaving them piled on the floor, completely destroying Eddie's meticulous organization. And countless people who could only remember that the record they were searching for had a blue-ish album cover.

And now there's this. The three flights of stairs up to their third floor apartment and Eddie swears they get steeper and higher by the day.

But, just like always, he trudges up them. Unlocks the door and steps through with a sigh like he hasn't been able to breathe all day and coming home is the air his lungs needed.

There's laughter coming from the living room. Steve's laughter. It sounds the way sunshine feels and Eddie can literally feel the tension begin to melt away. He kicks his shoes off and quietly walks down the entry hall, stopping just shy of going into the living room so he can lean against the wall and watch his two favorite beings in the entire world.

Steve is sitting in the middle of the floor, leaning back on his arms, giggling at the rabbit running circles around him.

Paul has his head stuck in an empty square tissue box, shaking it around as he runs, but not obviously trying to get it off. Just hopping around, a tissue box over his face. The first time he did it, Steve freaked out, rushing to pull the box off - but Paul tugged his face out before Steve could even take two steps across the room. Now, after the dozens of times they've seen him do it, it's just hilarious.

Eddie snorts a laugh and Steve looks up, his grin going even wider when he spots Eddie leaning in the doorway. He sits up, holding his arms out, and Eddie goes to him, folding himself down to the floor and leaning into Steve's embrace. He watches Paul hop past their feet, still wearing his tissue box mask and the laughter that bubbles in his chest eases him even closer to relaxed.

"Hi, love," Steve says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "How was work?"

Eddie slumps even further against Steve. "Awful," he grumbles. "I don't know what it is, but being a customer just seems to make people stupid. And if they were stupid already, they get stupider." He rolls his eyes.

Steve laughs a little, runs his fingers through Eddie's hair. "I'm sorry the music lovers of the city are a nightmare." Then he sobers. "You know, I could pick up a few extra shifts if you -"

But Eddie cuts him off. They've had this discussion. "No. You need to focus on school. You're following your dreams and this is how I can help. I want to do this."

"Yeah, well, what if I want to help you, too?" Steve asks, verging on a pout.

"Just always be here for me to come home to?" He kisses Steve softly and Steve sighs into the contact.

"Yeah, I can do that," he breathes out.

They spend a moment just sitting in each other's space, but then there's a furry little head insistently pushing against Eddie's hand and he pulls away, looking down to see that Paul has ditched the box and is now tucked against Eddie's side, demanding pets. Eddie giggles.

"Yeah, and you help, too, you little bastard. Even if you do think me petting you is more important than me kissing your dad," he tells him, mock grumpy.

Steve laughs, too, and tightens his arms around Eddie. Finally, finally, Eddie can feel himself fully relax. He's home.

---

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

ao3: And Rabbit Makes Three

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #paul the rabbit #my fic #this is something my rabbit actually does and i finally got pictures and videos of it 😂 #check the reblogs - i'm gonna post a couple pictures of him with his tissue box toy 😂

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Warmth

[Resident Evil: Village] Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 826

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: None!

[A/N]: This one is really short because I wanted to get something out quickly before writer's block hits me like a train. I'll try to write again in a few days once I find a way to gain inspiration again.

Enjoy!

Warmth flooded through Donna’s senses as a soft hand tapped away at her arm. She hummed, blearily opening her eye and subconsciously pulling the source of heat closer to her body. She inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of the shampoo [Y/N] used. She was too exhausted and caught in her state of bliss to realize that the one in front of her was speaking. The tapping returned, this time a bit harder. Donna grumbled, cursing under her breath softly as she woke up a bit more. “Donna, are you listening to me?” She nodded after a moment of processing the words and leaned forward to press her forehead against the back of [Y/N]’s neck. “Mmhm.” “We need to get up and get ready for the day. You’re usually up so early. Are you feeling alright?” Donna groaned at the question.

“I’m fine,” is all she mumbled. “I’m glad. We still need to get up though. We’re really off on our schedule. It’s nearly two hours after we usually eat breakfast.” The doll-maker shook her head in response. She pulled her closer, not wanting to leave the state of resting vulnerability. She had never felt this relaxed in all her years–it was entirely foreign to her. She welcomed it without hesitation, however, and made sure to savor every moment of it.

She had craved this for so long–even before she and [Y/N] had started dating. Ever since she grew to be a young woman and saw all of the couples around the village–all the romance in the books she read–she craved the same. She wanted to hold someone and be held. She wanted to feel someone trusting her enough to hold her close and provide her with the warmth she had been longing for. She knew this wouldn’t be the only time she and [Y/N] slept like this, but she was afraid to let go in case it took too long to do it again. She didn’t want to miss out on this warmth for another long, extended period of time. [Y/N] shifted in front of her, turning to glance at her from the corner of her eye as Donna opened her own. “Donna,” she spoke softly. Donna hummed in response, letting her eye flutter shut again. [Y/N] sighed quietly in front of her. “Never mind. Just rest for now, okay?” The ravenette nodded and moved forward to nuzzle her face back into the soft [h/c] locks in front of her. She yawned before sighing heavily. Her lips perked up into a small smile of content as [Y/N] gently rubbed her arm with the pad of her thumb.

[Y/N] knew Donna had been exhausted over the week. She had multiple orders come in for dolls, a family meeting that completely drained her, Angie was being herself, and she still had to cook and clean to take care of herself and [Y/N]. It made the [h/c] girl frown each time she thought about it. She wanted to help, but she wasn’t sure how. She could clean, but Angie always got in the way and distracted her. She offered to cook multiple times, but Donna refused, too prideful of her own food to let her take over. She couldn’t help with the orders because she didn’t have any experience in making them, and she wasn’t allowed to attend the family meetings.

She felt guilty for not being able to ease Donna’s stress, so she figured she could do something simple now–letting her sleep in so she finally got the rest she deserved. And if that meant their daily schedule got messed up by a few hours, that was fine.

She sighed with a smile of her own, earning a soft groan as she traced patterns against Donna’s arms with her nails. She brought the doll-maker’s hand up to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I suppose sleeping in would be alright,” she said quietly. “It’d be nice to have a day off to just relax.” Donna nodded in agreement, pulling [Y/N] even closer to her and letting the muscles in her arms relax again. They stayed in silence for a while, both enjoying the other’s presence. Donna was drifting in and out of consciousness, worried she’d miss something [Y/N] said if she fell asleep again like her body was begging her to. At length, a familiar tap touched her arm again. She hummed to show she was listening.

“You know, if you want, we can cuddle like this more often. It doesn’t just have to be at night while we’re sleeping.” The doll-maker felt the crimson red heat flush her cheeks as a smile unwillingly cracked across her face. She brought her hand up in search of [Y/N]’s, lacing their fingers together once they found each other and squeezed it tight. “I would love that,” she mumbled.

#donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x female reader #donna beneviento x y/n #re8 donna #donna beneviento re8 #y/n #female reader #x reader #fluff #resident evil #resident evil village

[canbean-enby]

I feel like I need to post so here is some Stardew Valley fluff for my favorite writer boi

Elliot had been working on his new novel for the past few months. Because of his dedication, he had become more and more closed off the closer he came to finishing it. He always pushed himself too hard when it came to his books. He thought that if he didn’t finish them that he would be a failure and the entire reason that he moved to the small town would be a waist. He also thought that he would be a bad husband to you if he wasn't able to provide funds for your crops for the coming season. Of course, you could hold your own, you were good with saving and your crops always sold for a pretty penny because of the new fertilizer that you were able to get. It was safe to say that you were financially in the right place, however, Elliot always concerns himself with the “what ifs”

What if you get into an accident on the bus? What if your crops die earlier than they were expected. What if the fertilizer stops working? What if your animals weren’t able to provide enough milk this week?

The what-ifs consumed him and pushed him to continue writing. But the progress he was making on each chapter, caused you two to grow further apart.

Some days you two would barely speak. Others, you could not get a single word out of him. He would always forget to eat so you had to make sure he was doing that while also taking care of the farm. You were getting exhausted. And today caused you to pass out.

You decided to get your farm duties done early so you could get something nice for Elliot in the mines. You know he doesn’t like to show it, but the man loves being spoiled. Especially with crab cakes and some jewels. So, that’s what you decided to get. You understand his determination to get books done when he has the idea in place. You’ve seen him when he has to discard a book because of the loss of direction and you never want him to be that sad again. Even if it costs you quality time to spend with him. You have your farm to distract you anyway.

While thinking about your darling husband, you got distracted and a slime snuck up on you. While you attacked it, there was another that snuck up behind you. You managed to fight both of them off but they messed you up pretty good. Your body was torn and your energy was depleted. You need to go home. You don’t need another $1000 charged because you wanted to complete a task. That would be the tenth time this month and you know Harvey would scold you until your ears bleed. Plus, there is always someone stealing in the mines. No one knows who but if you pass out, you wake up with less than you had before. You found that out the hard way and there is no way you are going to let that happen again.

So, you dragged your sluggish body back to your house. Your feet cried at the fact that your house was so far from the mines. Your stomach yelled at you for not eating before coming here. You thought it would’ve been a quick trip. Didn’t realize that crabs were so hard to come by. Then again the TV did say that your luck would not be good today.

You didn’t even notice that you got home until your head banged against your front door. You opened it and suddenly your legs gave out as soon as the indoor breeze hit you. You didn’t even care at this point, your body was just so exhausted.

In your fog of exhaustion, you didn’t notice that your husband was trying to get your response to see if you were okay. He heard the bang at the front door and knew it was you, what he didn’t expect was the collapse that followed right after that. He knew you worked yourself hard but this was going too far. What could you possibly need that you would risk passing out in a place like the mines?

Once you gave your husband a quiet whisper that you were okay, he walked you over to your shared bedroom and set you on the bed. He pressed his fingers on top of your forehead to see if you had run a fever but everything seemed fine. So he ran to the kitchen to grab you some food that you left in the fridge for him. You did not hesitate to eat it. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were until the plate of food met your eyes. Once you were finished, you set the plate aside and tried to sit up only to be pushed down by the ginger.

“Darling you need to rest”

“I’m okay Elliot, really. I just need to remember to bring some more food with me when I go to the mines. And I probably need to go the adventurers guild to see if I can get a new weapon. Who knew slimes could be so-“

“My love,” he places a hand on your cheek and a thumb on your lips to stop you from talking. “I don’t want you out of my sight for the rest of today, okay? My eyes need a break from the screen and you need to rest. Why not help each other out hm? How does that sound?” You couldn’t help the smile that crawled onto your face or the heat that spread across your cheeks as you looked at the man you loved. “Depends, do I get a kiss out of this deal or?” He only chuckled before pressing his lips to yours, filling the kiss with passion and love, something you both have needed for the past few months. Once he pulls back, he moves into the bed next to you and pulls you close to him, playing with your hair gently to try and lull you to sleep. Of course, it was working.

After a few moments of silence, you can hear the hesitation in his voice. The way he opens and closes it prompts you to ask what is on his mind.

“I am sorry for my neglectful behavior these past few months. It’s just…I feel that if I do not make this book better than my last, I won’t be able to financially support the farm and I would eventually become a burden to you.”

You look up at him and see that his eyes are full of tears and his breath has quickened. You move your hand gently onto his face and slowly make him look at you, giving a small kiss to his nose to try and ground him from the thoughts that continue to rack his mind.

“Elliot, we are fine financially. You know this. You are not and never will be a burden on me. The house is already paid for, the farm is just something I feel the need to do. There is nothing you need to worry about when it comes to finances my darling. Everything is covered. You do not need to worry.”

Though you said this, a smile did not appear on his face like you expected it to. So you did what you know would bring a smile onto his face. You moved your hand into your pocket and felt around for the receipt that Pierre provided when you sold your crops. You showed it to your husband and his eyes lit up in surprise.

"How- you made all of this from the farm? Was this from this month?"

"Darling...that was just from today." You didn't think his eyes could get any bigger, but they did. He sat in shock, looking over the numbers that were inked onto the small piece of paper. The guilty feeling lifted away as you slipped the piece of paper onto the night stand next to you.

"If you ever need help on the farm. Do let me know. Maybe if you showed me how then we can make even more than that."

You giggled at his excitement, moving you hands around his waist and pulling him in closer to you as you close your eyes.

"Yea but you have to learn to remember to water your crops every day my love. And not with salt water..."

He kissed the top of your head and angled his arms around you, getting comfortable as multiple yawns were shared between the both of you. "I guess you are correct. Maybe I should stick to writing."

#stardew elliott #stardew valley #Elliot fluff #Elliot x reader #stardew valley fluff #gn!reader #if you couldn't tell im a Elliot lover #any Elliot slander is not tolerated #let Elliot farm #farm boy Elliot 2023

[yellowkitkieran]

In My Plans (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: NSFW! Kieran tries to break things off when he gets news of his transfer, but you refuse to let him.

"I'm going to Spain."

Though you're good at hiding your emotions, the pain that flickers across your face is unmissable. It is there and gone, replaced by a bright, genuine smile by the time Kieran has blinked. 

"Baby that's great! You'll get tons of playing time, and you won't have to worry about getting called up for scotland. You'll be a shoe in! They won't be able to say no when they see you scoring more goals than any left back in the prem."

Your hands settle on Kieran's chest, though the gesture provides none of the usual comfort. His stomach has become home to a roiling ocean, complete with thunderclouds and boisterous waves. He's contemplated this all week, trying to decide the best course of action. Spain isn't just a short train ride away like Newcastle would have been. Spain requires a plane, and multiple free days for you to dedicate to visiting him. With so much on your plate already between finishing your degree and hunting for the perfect place to start your career, Kieran can't be selfish. He cannot expect you to set aside what precious little free time you have for him. He cannot, in good conscience, ask you to move with him either. So in his mind, there's only one option. 

Kieran takes your hands in his, cool against his clammy palms. Despite the lack of options, Kieran doesn't want to do this. It will hurt you both, but in the end he believes it to be the right thing to do. So he kisses each of your fingertips one by one, purposely avoiding the question he is sure to find in your eyes. But per usual, you know him too well. His silence speaks volumes, practically screaming his discomfort. You read his mind, plucking the thought from his head and giving it a life by voicing it. 

"I'm not leaving you." 

Kieran sighs, dropping his hands to rest on your waist. Even now, on the brink of losing you forever, he is powerless to keep from touching you. You are his comfort, his person, the one he wishes to be with forever. It's a shame that it has to end this way, but it's best for you in the long run. 

"A full season is a long time to ask you to wait for me-"

"I don't care," you interrupt, firm and unyielding. "You're in my plans Kieran- I know your gaffer let you down when he said that but… you know I won't. I'll follow through. I'm not gonna run away just because I can't see you every day. I love you too much for that. Do you really think I would give this up so easily? That I wouldn't fight for us?" 

The hurt carried on your words is nearly too much for him to bear. "I cannae ask you to wait here for me. I'll be in Spain, you'll be here for school… it's not fair to ask you to wait. I think it's best for us both if we don't drag this out.."

If he's being honest, Kieran has been waiting for this moment. When he's dated in the past, his partners have always left when things got hard. Distance like this isn't something many people are willing to overlook, even in the face of once-in-a-lifetime love. 

"Kieran-" 

"Look, I dinnae ken when I'll be able to come visit, and I know you won't let me fly you out every weekend-"

"Kieran."

He powers on, ignoring your chastising eyes as his hands begin to tremble. "It's too far. It's too long. We can't- I won't let this wreck you, I won't be responsible for that. Maybe if you're single when I get home, we could see about trying again but I don't expect you to be." His world is irreversibly changing and he doesn't like it. He likes the idea of causing you pain even less, though. 

"Kieran. Stop." 

Kieran's eyes are wild like that of a frightened deer. He flinches when your hands come up to his jaw, then settle on either side of his neck. Pulse frantic beneath your fingertips, Kieran searches for any reassurance in your face. He is wound tighter than a cornered lion, set to lash out at anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

When your lips meet Kieran's brow, he nearly sobs. "I don't want anyone else." His body shakes when your mouth slowly makes its way down the bridge of his nose, and he lets a tear fall when your kiss soothes his soul. "I want my Kieran, my bold, witty Scotsman and no one else." It's a ghost of a kiss, nothing more than a quiet promise, but it is enough. "Distance doesn't scare me, we can make it work. But losing you? That's terrifying. My worst nightmare." When your fingers thread into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, all of Kieran's fears leave with his exhale. 

"I'm staying," you murmur, holding his gaze when he finally looks up. "I can look after the house for you, sleep here a few nights a week… It'll be nice to be in a place with so many memories when I miss you." Kieran draws strength from your unwavering voice. "I'll keep things clean, make sure it's not so dusty that your allergies act up when you come home to visit." 

Kieran uses his grip on your waist to pull you into his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs. Your weight comforts him like it always has, the same way a weighted blanket helps some with their anxiety.  You use the pads of your thumbs to collect the moisture on his cheeks before giving him a proper kiss, one that Kieran finds the energy to return by tilting his head up to meet yours. 

"I love you." Kieran tucks his head in the crook of your neck, arms like a vice around your waist. He's afraid if he lets go, you'll realize your mistake. He is terrified that you might change your mind and walk out his front door without a second thought. He needs you, probably more than you realize. He shouldn't be so attached after only six months, but losing you would feel like playing with a missing limb. 

"And I love you Kieran, so so much. I love you so much that if I wasn't in my last semester, knee deep in my dissertation, I'd drop out and follow you to Spain."

"I wouldn't let you." Kieran shakes his head, nose rubbing your neck as he does so. The sensitivity causes you to squirm, rewarding him with a whiff of your peony and rose perfume. It's the one he picked out for you a few weeks ago, the glass bottle engraved with your name and the date of your anniversary. He loves the way it smells on you, complimenting your shampoo and creating his own personal bouquet that he'd gladly enjoy every day. 

Your voice drops to a conspirators whisper, your breath hot on his ear. "I'd quit in secret darling. You wouldn't know it until I showed up at your doorstep in Spain with everything I owned in two cases."

"Two cases? That's all you'd need?" 

"I'm a light packer." Your cheeks rests atop his head and Kieran feels the last of his fear drain from his overworked muscles. "Mostly it would be the shirts I've stolen from you and some photos in one case, and the other would be filled with books and trinkets. I don't need much to survive, aside from you."

Not for the first time, Kieran is eternally grateful for how adept you are at switching off his brain. When he finds himself on a proverbial ledge, you're the one he wants to have to talk him down. When he feels the weight in his boots, you're the one that reminds him to take them off and shake them out. Your voice is the only one that can quiet the 'what ifs' in his head, leaving behind a garden of promises to be redeemed in the future. 

It might be a purr that Kieran lets out when you card your fingers in his hair again. Whatever it is, it's something born of unfiltered gratitude. Never has he loved someone as hard as he's loved you. He didn't dare dream that someone could love him with the same intensity, let alone someone as perfect for him as you. Kieran could conquer the world with you at his side, his rightful queen who cradles his heart in her hands. 

Kieran feels your cheek lift with a smile when his lips trail over your shoulder, left exposed by the well-worn neck of the shirt you stole from him. He rests his forehead on your damp skin, wanting nothing more than to melt into you until he becomes nothing more than a part of you. 

"I love you." Though he's muttered the words a dozen times in the last hour alone, it still doesn't feel like nearly enough. He wants the seriousness of his love to strike you like cupid's arrow, the heart shaped scar forever serving as a reminder of the man who will one day make you his wife. 

"You keep saying that…" your arm encircles his head, keeping his mouth on your skin. "Why don't you take me up to bed and show me how much you love me, Key?"

Kieran doesn't need to be told twice. Strong fingers dig into your thighs as he lifts you up, reaching the stairs in three long strides. He takes them two at a time, not eager to find his own pleasure but eager to help you find yours. Tonight will be about you and only you, and proving himself worthy of your unwavering love. It won't hurt to give you something to think about while he's gone, either. 

Flicking the lights off as he enters, Kieran sets you in the center of his bed with a tenderness you've come to love. With previous lovers you found yourself craving things hard and fast, wanting it to be over as quickly as possible. But with Kieran? You'd beg for hours with him, each artfully placed kiss or drag of his fingers against your skin leaving you with an insatiable craving for more. 

Your head tips back when Kieran lowers his mouth to your throat, his downy lips leaving shining kisses on your heated skin. You're already desperate for him, desperate to touch and be touched by this god of a man. You know he'll be especially soft tonight after his earlier vulnerability, and somehow that only turns you on more. 

"I love you," he murmurs, accent impossibly thicker than the last time he said it. His brown doe eyes see straight through you, penetrating right to your soul. Something tugs in your chest, heightening your desire and stoking the fire in your gut.  

Sliding your fingers in Kieran's hair, you tug hard until he gets the idea and kisses you properly. It starts soft, nothing more than a peck, but the second his tongue darts over your lips you open for him, wanting him to explore your mouth until he's mapped every bare inch of you. His tongue doesn't fight yours but moves in tandem, complimenting you in the most basic and intimate way possible.

Your leg develops a mind of its own, hitching over Kieran's hip to beg him to come closer. He relents, allowing his hips to press against yours while you helplessly squirm under him. You need something, anything, to ease the ache that has already started in your core. 

Kieran correctly interprets the way you claw at his shirt to mean you want it off. You're left slack jawed when he throws the fabric aside, his bare chest on full display for you. Soft, teasing touches are your weapon of choice as you trace each dip and curve of muscle that makes up Kieran- your Kieran. The only man you ever wish to see this way. 

When your hand reaches the button of his jeans, Kieran's hand circles your wrist to stop you. "Not me- just you." 

Oh, you're in for a long night.

Liquid fire melts you from the inside out when Kieran eases you out of your bottoms and kisses his way down your abdomen. His hot breath ghosts over your folds, already slick with your arousal. 

"I love you so-" Kieran flicks his tongue over your bud, eliciting a moan from deep in your chest, "fucking-" another, harder this time, "much." When Kieran sucks lightly on your clit, your vision explodes with black dots. He's barely done anything at all and you're already whining, his name dropping from your lips like dew as he spreads your juices with his tongue. 

Kieran's chin shines nearly as much as his glazed eyes when he pulls away for air. "Taste so fucking sweet baby- I'll never get sick of it."

"Probably taste even better mixed with your cu-" You gasp when Kieran surprises you by plunging two fingers into you. He pumps them in the perfect rhythm, attuned to your body and what you enjoy. You watch, eyelids heavy, as Kieran sucks on his tongue, then opens his mouth and lets his spit spread over your cunt. 

Your incoherent moans take the shape of his name. 'Kieran' is the only thing you manage to babble out as he fucks you with his fingers, curling them to drag across your gspot with each pass. 

As the seconds tick by, your spine begins to arch. When Kieran adds a third finger you nearly explode- perfectly stretched and wonderfully fitted with just the slightest bite of pain from the fullness. Kieran moans against you himself when you sink your nails into his shoulders, begging for him to be impossibly closer. Muscle ripples under your fingers as he works his own in and out of you, searching for the release he knows you're teetering on. 

You're right there, right-

Kieran's free hand snakes up your stomach to toy with your breast, pinching and squeezing your nipple. That last push of pleasure is all you need to ascend. Mouth open in a silent scream, you unravel around Kieran, his fingers continuing to fuck you through your high as you struggle to breathe. They go still when you suck in air, filling your lungs with sweet, salty scented oxygen as you start to come down. 

Kieran leaves his fingers where they are, kissing the insides of your thighs while you come to. Your heart races for a fair few minutes, though eventually you find enough of your wits to smile at what just went on.

"I that think-" You shake your head, words jumbling in the aftermath of your release. "I think that proves how much you love me. God, Kieran- you're perfect."

You whine when Kieran withdraws his fingers. That whine quickly turns into a moan when he licks them clean, cheeks hollowed to lap up every last bit of you that remains. "I don't think it does… we're gonna need three more rounds at least before I believe it."

And really, who are you to deny him?

"Better get to work then Tierney," you grin, settling back on the pillows and spreading your legs further, "Because the sun is setting. Tick tock."

#kieran tierney fantasy #kieran tierney fanfic #kieran tierney imagine #kieran tierney #kieran tierney fic #kieran tierney fanfiction #kieran tierney smut #kieran tierney one shot #jac writes #forbidden fruit

[jrob64]

Silly Songs With Killian - a CS Modern AU One-shot

You can blame @sotangledupinit for this silly, but sweet, little story! She posted a prompt on Discord which caused my muse to jump to attention, and I wrote it in two days. If you're not familiar with the Veggie Tales videos, you'll still be able to enjoy this, but do yourself a favor and check out the songs on Spotify here. You don't have to be a kid to enjoy them and I guarantee they'll make you laugh!

Special thanks to Kit for making young Henry look even younger for the pic set, Mary for being my beta, and Krystal for being a second set of eyes for the Silly Songs lyrics and also for the pic set I created. It pays to have wonderful fandom friends!

Summary: After a frustrating and exhausting day, Emma Cassidy is relieved when her little boy, Henry, is entertained by a gorgeous musician at a restaurant, giving her a chance to sit back, relax, and enjoy the music (and the view!) It gets even better when the singer, Killian, sings some of Henry’s favorite Silly Songs from his favorite videos, Veggie Tales. 

Rating: T

Words: 3946

Also posted to Ao3 and ffn

*********

It’s been one hell of a day. It wasn’t supposed to be this exhausting, but of course my ex, Neal, had to complicate things.

I was looking forward to going wedding dress shopping with my future sister-in-law Mary Margaret and her other bridesmaids, sipping champagne and giving my input on each of the possibilities. It was going to be so much fun.

And then...remember the saying that was popular many years ago - shit happens? Well, Neal can be used interchangeably with shit - they’re one and the same.

It was his scheduled weekend with our three-year-old, Henry, which was one reason why Mary Margaret chose this day. Then on Friday, almost an hour after Neal was supposed to pick Henry up at my apartment, he sent me a text: Something came up. Can’t make it this weekend. Tell Henry I’m sorry.

Apparently he turned off his phone after sending it, because he didn’t answer any of my increasingly volatile texts - eighteen of them, to be exact - or phone calls. I had to sit Henry in front of the television so I could go into my bedroom to leave some choice words on Neal’s voicemail.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for my sweet little boy) Henry is used to being let down by his father. In the eighteen months since we called it quits, Neal has skipped out on more weekend visits than he’s kept. I guess being a lying piece of shit takes up way too much of his time and he can’t spare any for his son.

Also unfortunately, all of the people who usually babysit for Henry were unable to watch him. Most of them were included in the shopping trip, my brother David was busy because he was painting the living room of the house he and his fiancée just bought, and Ruby’s Granny was off bowhunting with her new beau. (Bowhunting with her beau has been a running joke ever since she left a week ago.)

So instead of enjoying a carefree day of shopping with Mary Margaret, Belle, Ruby and Elsa, I had to keep an active, inquisitive toddler entertained in one bridal shop after another. We were all relieved when he finally fell asleep in the third shop, until the manager woke him up by screeching about how he was going to drool on the green velvet upholstery. That cost her any business she might have had from us (though in all honesty, her gowns were all hideous and looked like something only the Wicked Witch of the West might wear.)

Eventually, Mary Margaret said ‘yes to the dress’ in the fifth shop late in the afternoon, then we all decided to get an early dinner at a nearby restaurant that serves kids’ meals and has outdoor seating. If Henry has to spend one more minute inside today, I think he might have a complete meltdown.

After placing my order and getting Henry situated with the provided coloring sheet and obligatory four crayons, I hear someone speaking into a microphone and look over to see a guy standing on a small stage with a guitar. A very, VERY attractive guy.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says, and my jaw drops at the sound of his British accent. “My name is Killian and I hope you enjoy the music tonight. I do take requests. Feel free to sing along or dance in this nice, open area in front of me.”

“Oh, wow!” Belle gasps. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he, Emma?”

My jaw snaps shut and I turn to look at her. Seeing her sly smile, I teasingly say, “Why are you asking me? We all have eyes, you know.”

“Yes, but we all have significant others, too,” Ruby adds, which is completely unnecessary but, sadly, also completely true.

While my self pity begins to set in, the guy - Killian - strums his guitar and launches into the Eagles classic “Take it Easy”. Henry, who by this point has scribbled all over the coloring sheet, somehow managed to break his crayon into at least four pieces and, judging by the color of his teeth, took a bite of it as well, looks up with bright eyes. Since I allowed him to kneel on a chair instead of trying to strap him into a booster seat, he takes advantage of it and hops down.

Before I can chase after him, he makes a beeline for the open space in front of the admittedly gorgeous singer and begins jumping around in what passes for a three-year-old’s version of dancing. I sigh and start to get up, but Mary Margaret stops me with a hand on my arm. “Let him go. He’s been very good all day and deserves to burn off some energy. Besides, he’s only a few feet away and we can see him clearly from here.”

It doesn’t take much convincing for me to heed her advice. If someone else can entertain Henry for a while, I’m not going to complain.

When the song comes to an end, Killian acknowledges the smattering of applause and plays the extremely recognizable first chords of “All Right Now”. Henry doesn’t miss a beat, throwing himself around like a rag doll while all of us at our table, as well as most of the other diners, laugh delightedly at his exuberance.

By the time Killian is in the middle of his third song, “Old Time Rock and Roll”, our food arrives and I face the dreaded task of dragging my son back to the table to eat. I nibble at my fish and chips until the song ends, then dash to the makeshift dance floor to cajole Henry. When he shows the expected resistance, Killian chuckles and helpfully says, “Go with your mum, lad. I’ll play a slow song that’s not as much fun for dancing.”

True to his word, he croons the song “Everything I Do, I Do It For You” as Henry acquiesces and comes back to his seat to shove French fries into his mouth as fast as possible. It might not be a good song for Henry’s style of dancing, but Killian’s smooth voice singing the beautiful lyrics is sending pleasant chills down my spine.

Another song with a slow tempo follows, during which my little man polishes off his fries. But when Killian starts “Footloose”, all bets are off and Henry is back on the dance floor with a chicken nugget squeezed into both of his chubby fists.

After we finish our meals, Belle, Ruby and Elsa leave to spend the rest of the evening with their boyfriends. Mary Margaret lingers, telling me she’ll stay to keep me company, because she’d rather not have to help David clean up his painting mess. We don’t want to take up a table, so we move to some empty seats along the edge of the patio from where we can still see my little dancing king.

“You’d think his battery would run down soon,” Mary Margaret comments.

“Are you serious? That kid is like the Energizer bunny, plus he’s been cooped up in stuffy dress shops all day. My money is on the singer wearing out before Henry.”

She’s uncharacteristically quiet for several minutes. When she finally speaks, she says quietly, “He really is very handsome and seems like a nice guy.”

Her statement is out of left field and I’m confused. “Who?”

“The singer - Killian,” she clarifies.

I narrow my eyes at her. “What’s your point?”

“No point. I was just making a comment,” she shrugs, all innocence.

I don’t believe her. Mary Margaret is the queen of set-ups and wears the crown proudly. She introduced Belle to Will, Ruby to Jefferson and Elsa, well, she introduced Elsa to Victor, but that didn’t work out very well. Elsa met Graham on her own.

“I’m not looking for someone to date, Mary Margaret. I’m still dealing with my idiot ex and trying to concentrate on raising my son not to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

“I understand, but…”

And it’s at this point I resign myself to the fact she’s going to spout some argument that’s going to weaken my resolve not to date.

“If Henry had a really good male role model in his life, it would help you in raising him to be a gentleman.”

“Seems to me David does a pretty good job of that, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I know,” she sighs, “but between working, getting the house ready and planning the wedding, his time with Henry is very limited.”

“The house will be ready before you get married and the wedding is in less than five months. After the honeymoon, he’ll have more time.”

“Oh, but then we’ll have children of our own, and you know how much time that takes.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re pregnant, Mary Margaret?”

‘’What?” she gasps. “No! I’m just saying…”

“I know what you’re saying and I hear you. If the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t be opposed to dating him, but I’m not gonna try to force something to happen.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a date for the wedding, though?” she presses.

“Henry will be my date. He’ll be very dapper in his little tux.”

“But…”

“No buts, Mary Margaret. I don’t want to be set up with someone just so I don’t look pathetic at your wedding.”

We both fall silent as we watch Henry continue to dance in front of the bemused musician. Glancing at the time on my phone, I realize he’s been at it for well over an hour and isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It’s beginning to get dark and I know I’ll have to wrangle him into the car before too much longer for his bath and bedtime.

I feel a little sorry for Killian, though. Nobody else has taken him up on his offer to dance, despite his repeated invitations. In fact, most of the diners aren’t paying attention to him at all. I hate to take his number one fan home, especially when I’m able to sit back and relax while listening to some seriously good music.

“I’m going to take a little break and then I’ll be back,” Killian announces, lifting the guitar strap over his head.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to take Henry home,” I say to Mary Margaret.

“I suppose so,” she agrees. “Let me say goodbye to him and then I have to be on my way, too. According to his text, David is anxious for me to see how the living room turned out.”

We both stand up and move toward the stage, but I stop in my tracks. Killian is squatting down in front of Henry, listening to him with a huge smile on his face. I don’t know what Henry is saying, and I’m not sure Killian will be able to understand it anyway. Henry has an extensive vocabulary for a three-year-old, but I listen to him with ‘mom ears’, which means I can actually decipher what he’s trying to say.

When we reach them, Killian looks up at us and whatever I was going to say flies right out of my head. From a distance, the man is handsome. Close up, he’s nothing short of breathtaking. Carefully trimmed scruff covers a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, his cheekbones would put every male model to shame, and his dark hair is swept back from his forehead with a few rogue strands hanging down enticingly. Even his slightly pointed ears are adorable.

But it’s his eyes that shut down the functioning part of my brain. To say they are blue is like saying the sun is a tad bit warm, and the way the waning light catches them makes them shine like sapphires. I’m aware that my mouth is hanging open like a fish on dry land, but I can’t seem to make it form actual words.

“Hello, Killian. We’ve been thoroughly enjoying your music tonight, even if we haven’t been showing it as much as this little guy.”

Thank God for the natural chattiness of Mary Margaret.

Killian reaches out to ruffle Henry’s sweaty hair, then stands up. “I’m very happy to hear that,” he says in that beautiful, lilting accent. “I was just telling young Henry here that I’ll play some special songs for him after the break.”

I finally find my tongue. “Oh, but I was coming to tell Henry it’s time to go home.”

My little con artist turns his baby browns on me. “Please, Mommy. I be a good boy, I pwomise.”

That’s just great. Now if I take him home, I’ll have to forfeit my Mom of the Year award.

Mary Margaret laughs. “Well, Henry and Emma may be able to stay, but I really have to go.”

Why did she emphasize my name so much? As if I don’t already know.

She hugs Henry and me, tells Killian goodbye, and winks at me as she passes by. Even without trying to set me up, she’s setting me up.

I look back at Killian, who finishes chugging a bottle of water and grins at me. Reaching out to take my hand, he shakes it and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Emma, and little Henry.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Killian. Thanks for entertaining my son tonight.”

“It’s been my pleasure. I love how uninhibited kids are, and how joyful.”

“Well, his day certainly didn’t start out joyfully at all.” I shouldn’t have said it, but I’m still boiling about what Neal did to his own son, especially when this stranger seems so happy to spend time with him.

“No?” Killian questions. “May I ask what happened?”

I glance down at Henry, not wanting to bash his no-good father in front of him. He’s happily lining up little stones he collected along the edge of the patio, oblivious to the conversation going on above him.

“He was supposed to be with his dad this weekend, but he canceled. Again. So Henry was stuck shopping for wedding dresses with us all day.”

“I see.” He ponders for a second. “Would that wedding dress be for the lovely lass who just left…or someone else?”

“Yeah, it’s for Mary Margaret. She’s engaged to my brother.”

“I’m very glad I was able to make Henry’s day better, because his dancing did the same for me.” We watch Henry play, babbling to himself. “He seems like a happy little lad,” Killian observes.

“I do my best, but as a single mom, I make a lot of mistakes.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Love. All parents make mistakes. It’s a good thing kids have perfect aunts and uncles,” he says with a smirk.

“So, are you an imperfect father or a perfect uncle?” Am I really flirting with him right now?

“I have two nieces, so that would make me the latter.”

“Do you get to see them very often?”

“Aye, they live just a few miles from me, so I spoil them as often as possible. They’re my brother Liam’s girls.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re originally from the U.S., if you don’t mind me saying.”

He chuckles again, rubbing his finger behind his right ear. “We were born in England and lived there until I was fourteen, then my father took a job here so we moved across the pond.”

“That explains the accent.”

He nods and checks his watch, blowing out a breath. “I should probably get back to my set. Will you allow young Henry to stay for a few more songs?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Sure. What’s another fifteen minutes in the grand scheme of things?”

A genuine smile splits his face. “Excellent! I think he’ll particularly like the next three or four songs I play.” He looks around and grabs a nearby chair from an empty table, setting it down beside me. “Won’t you please have a seat, Emma?”

“Such a gentleman,” I say, sinking onto the offered chair.

“Oh, I’m always a gentleman.”

Somehow I don’t mind him flirting with me.

He steps back on the stage, slips his guitar into place, and positions himself in front of the microphone. After giving me a wink, he announces in an overly accented, squeaky voice, “And now it’s time for Silly Songs with Killian. The part of the show where Killian comes out and sings…a silly song.”

I burst out laughing at the very familiar words. Henry is addicted to Veggie Tales, the wacky shows featuring talking fruits and vegetables. I love them because they teach good moral values; he loves them because they’re hilarious. His favorite part of every video is Silly Songs with Larry the Cucumber, which we watch over and over and over again. Apparently he conveyed this obsession to Killian.

Killian closes his eyes, somberly strums his guitar, and sings, “Oh, where is my hairbrush? Oh, where is my hairbrush? Oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh wherrrrrrrre…is my hairbrush?”

Henry is jumping up and down like a kangaroo on a pogo stick, shouting, “Mommy! Mommy! It’s the Lawwy song! Keeyin is singin’ the Lawwy song!”

Wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, I look around at the half-dozen people at the tables, who are looking at the musician like he’s lost his damn mind. Bunch of sticks in the mud. Lighten up.

But Killian isn’t bothered by their response, or lack thereof. He smoothly transitions to another of Henry’s favorite silly songs. “Oh, everybody’s got a water buffalo. Yours is fast, but mine is slow. Oh, where’d we get them, I don’t know. But everybody’s got a water buffalo, oooooo.”

Henry is beside himself with excitement. He’s running around in a circle, waving his arms in the air in his best impression of a rabid chimpanzee.

Killian moves on to sing a few lines of “I Love My Lips” (I can’t help thinking I’m quite fond of them, too), followed by “The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything”.

By this time, the diners have relaxed, laughing and clapping along with the crazy tunes. Meanwhile, my son has finally worn himself out, collapsing in a small heap in front of the stage, looking up at Killian adoringly.

“...and we’ve never been to Boston in the falllllll,” Killian concludes with a flourish and takes a deep, dramatic bow.

I dig into my purse and pull out a twenty dollar bill. I always try to watch my budget, but I’ll skip getting a chocolate caramel latte for a few days to compensate. It’s worth it for what Killian did for Henry tonight.

Walking up to the stage, I drop the bill into the tip jar, smiling up at the singer. He’s between songs, so I say, “Thank you so much, Killian. You’re my hero for entertaining Henry tonight. It was great and he loved it, didn’t you, kid?”

Henry jumps to his feet. “I weally did, Keeyin! I love Lawwy songs!”

“What do you tell him?” I prompt.

“Thank you, Keeyin,” he says obediently.

“You’re very welcome, lad. I play here again in three weeks. Perhaps you can stop in and see me again?” He’s talking to Henry, but he’s looking at me.

“Can we, Mommy?” Henry pleads.

I know we probably can’t. This restaurant is all the way across the city from where we live, plus it’s pretty expensive. Mary Margaret footed the bill today, but twelve bucks for a kid’s meal is a little steep and I won’t pay it. I don’t want to say any of this though, because my tired son is walking a thin line between lingering happiness and an emotional collapse. So I use the parental standard, “We’ll see.”

Taking Henry’s hand, I say, “Thanks, again, Killian. Have a good evening.”

Something that looks like slight panic flashes through those gorgeous eyes of his and he speaks into the microphone, “I’ll be back in five, folks.” He slides his guitar around to his back and steps off the stage, placing himself directly in front of me. “Emma, if I may be so bold, and if you’re not already dating someone, would you consider going out with me?”

“Wh-what?” Apparently, getting asked out by the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on renders me a bit stupid.

He lightly wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me further toward the side of the patio for some privacy. “Even though we just met, I would really like to get to know you better.”

“But…but you don’t even know my last name.”

“What is it?”

“Cassidy.”

“Mine is Jones, so now we know each other a little better already.”

I stare at him, trying to think of a single reason why I should say no to him. “I…we…um…Henry and I, we…uh…we come as a packaged set.” That’s the way, Emma. Use your kid to try to scare him off. And you did it so gracefully, too.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m really quite fond of your son. That’s not a deal breaker,” he states firmly. He still hasn’t let go of my wrist and now he’s rubbing his thumb over it. I find I don’t mind at all.

“I…”

“Mommy, potty!” Henry announces.

Oh, geez. Killian has to get back to his set and Henry has to pee. I’m running out of time.

Dropping Henry’s hand, I rummage through my purse, trying to find a pen. “Got a piece of paper?” I ask, mid-rummage.

Killian dashes to his guitar case and pulls out a piece of sheet music, returning with it just as I locate the elusive pen. He plants his foot on a chair and slaps the paper down on his knee so I can scribble my number on it.

When I finish, I lift Henry into my arms and take off to find a bathroom. Before disappearing inside the restaurant, I glance back at Killian. He’s still standing where I left him, a broad smile on his face as he grips the paper in his hand. Raising my free hand, I give him a little wave and he returns it.

After I’ve had time to think about it, I might regret giving him my number. Right now I just have to keep my kid from peeing down the front of my dress.

*********

A year ago, Killian Jones was my hero for giving me a chance to relax while he entertained my son. Five months later, he was once again my hero by being my date to Mary Margaret and David’s wedding. Today, he’s still my hero because he’s continuously proving that not all men are incomparable asses.

On the contrary, he’s everything I dreamed a man should be, once upon a time. Killian Jones is talented, intelligent, funny, considerate, masculine, caring, loving, passionate, and a great conversationalist, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous (if I didn’t mention that, it would be a crime.) He’s the total package and I’m head-over-heels in love with him.

Oh, and he’s a fantastic role model for my little boy. I usually hate to admit when Mary Margaret is right, but in this case, she was unequivocally correct. He and Henry absolutely adore each other and it makes my heart so happy. They do everything together - read books, play Star Wars with lightsabers, build block towers, climb trees, ride bikes, you name it.

And Henry loves singing silly songs with his soon-to-be stepfather. What more could a mother want for her son? Except, perhaps, a sibling.

Killian and I are working on that…and thoroughly enjoying every second of it.

*********

Thank you for reading. I hope it brightened your day!

Tagging: @hookedmom​​​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​​​ @cs-rylie​​​​​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​​​​​ @grimmswan​​​​​​ @wyntereyez​​​​​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​​​ @paradiselady19​​​​​​ @xarandomdreamx​​​​​​ @motherkatereloyshipper​​​​​​ @julesep3026​​​​​​ @courtorderedcake​​​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​​​ @pawshapedheart​​​​​​ @vampcoffeegyrl23​​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​​ @captainswan4life85​​​​​​ @bluewildcatfanatic​​​​​​ @eleveneitherway​​​​​​ @elfiola​​​​​​ @kday426​​​​​​ @julieenchanted-swans​​​​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​​​​ @andiirivera​​​​​​ @djlbg​​​​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​​ @huntressandlioness1​​​​​​ @anmylica​​​​​​ @booksteaandtoomuchtv​​​​​​ @pirateherokillian​​​​​​ @cocohook38​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​​​ @zaharadessert​​​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​​​ @yasbio2015​​​​​​ @lyssapup27​​​​​​ @nachocheese-itsmycheese​​​​​​ @singersdd​​​​​​ @mie779​​​​​​ @undercaffinatednightmare​​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​​ @xsajx​​​​​​ @jackieorioncat​​​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​​ @bdevereaux-blanche​​​​​​ @soniccat​​​​​​ @searchingwardrobes​​​​​​ @jarienn972​​​​​​ @apiratewhopines​​​​​​​ @softkilly​​​​​​​ @goforlaunchcee​​​​​​​ @kymbersmith-90​​​​​​​ @captainswan217-blog

#csff #silly songs with killian #cs modern Au #one shot #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #captain swan fanfic #henry is little #anti-neal #emma & neal are divorced #killian is a musician #cs fanfic #silly songs from veggie tales

[witchybiitchy]

c’est ça l’amour | l.n

fic masterlist

chapter 10

“I think it’s safe to say that everyone, both from AlphaTauri and McLaren, are incredibly disappointed in you two.” Dan Brown’s words echoed around Sydney’s head as she blow dried her hair, Alpha Tauri polo and jeans already on as she prepared for her first day of formal press since, what Daisy is privately referring to as ‘The Pash’, occurred. She’d performed well last week getting to P7, so there was no reason she couldn’t perform just as well this week, and that was what she’d tell everyone who asked. That didn’t stop her hands from shaking as she unplugged her hair dryer, nor her heart from beating at 1000 miles an hour as she stepped out of the hotel lobby and into her provided car with Daisy. Driving always calmed her down, but she didn’t think that anything could truly calm her down before this.

“Lando’s nervous too.” Daisy said sympathetically. She needed to give Sydney updates like this as the pair had been ‘formally discouraged from making non-professional, social contact’ with each other. Corporate speak for ‘make this any worse and you will lose your job.’

“He is not about to be called a slut on TV in front of all his colleagues, now is he?” Sydney’s lack of h’s seemed ever so prominent in her time of stress. Her accent had seemingly thickened in one day, as she’d spent all of the previous day on the phone with Pierre in between their individual duties for the day.

“Well, that’s the patriarchy for you, love. Don’t worry, the interviewers will probably feel just as awkward asking the questions as you will answering them.” Daisy replied. All Sydney could see in her head was Olav winking at her after poking his tongue in the inside of his cheek and already knew that wouldn’t be the case.

As soon as she stepped out of the car and onto the pavement of the Red Bull Ring’s driver entrance, she could feel eyes and cameras on her. They were earlier than a lot of other teams, and earlier than most of their team, as they wanted to avoid the majority of unofficial media personnel asking questions, but of course you couldn’t plan it perfectly.

“Are you and Lando like, dating?” A young girl in an FiA top said as she scanned Sydney’s pass for her. Apparently the machines were broken, but Daisy didn’t seem to be having too much trouble.

“No.” Sydney deadpanned before grabbing her pass back and rejoining Daisy. “One question and I am already wanting to go home.” Sydney groaned.

“Just take it one question at a time.” Daisy said positively.

The format of the Thursday was the same as any other. Sydney would complete all her individual interviews, the official Formula 1 press conference with another randomly selected driver, and then anything extra for AlphaTauri. Today, there was also a Grill the Grid to film, which made her feel physically nauseous as they almost always involved the discussion of fellow drivers. And yet, the entire atmosphere was different. Sydney felt like a zoo animal with all the eyes on her, and she even saw Christian Horner whisper something to Max Verstappen as she walked past them at one point. To his credit, Max didn’t seem overly impressed with whatever Christian had to say, and sent Sydney a comforting smile.

“Sydney, fuck, how are you?” Charles said as he was passing by with his team, seeming tentative to give her a hug but doing so anyway.

“I’m fine, I just need to get through today.” Sydney said softly into his shoulder.

“You’ll be great.” He smiled sympathetically before being swept off to another interview.

She didn’t really pay any attention to where they were going until Daisy stopped walking and got out her phone, probably panic checking Sydney’s schedule. They were basically in the middle of nowhere, in the AlpaTauri pit lane garage surrounded by a couple of engineers and mechanics but definitely no press. She gave Daisy a questioning look at their locale.

“Sky want to meet us here for an interview, something about location variety for their cut-shots before the race, I don’t know.” Daisy trailed off, her fidgeting hands revealing that she was nervous as well.

“Who is the interviewer? I do not want a man.” Sydney said as she closed her eyes and rubbed the heel of her palm into them.

“I think we have Natalie, so you’re in luck.” Daisy said just as a TV crew arrived in the pit lane. Two chairs were set up facing into the garage, so that the background of the video would be the pit wall. Natalie beckoned Sydney over as the crew continued setting up cameras and microphones, and she gave Daisy a questioning look before going over.

“Now, I know you’re probably nervous, and that’s totally fine, but I just want you to know that I only have one question about, well you know what about,” Natalie began, and Sydney was thanking the omnipotent powers of the world that this was the presenter she was given. “And it’s so open-ended you can basically give a press-statement on it. I'm not gonna try and make you say something risqué, as much as my boss wants me to. The interview’s mainly to talk about feminist shit, the female experience in F1. But don’t worry, this was planned before Tuesday, it’s not some cover up thing.” Natalie smiled comfortingly, and Sydney tried her best to smile back. Maybe she’d over-reacted, maybe the press wasn’t actually going to be that bad.

God, was she wrong. Her interviews all went by fairly quickly, her anxiety-riddled brain relaxing in relief at the questions that would normally seem brain numbing, and most only asked one or two questions about her and Lando. Grill the Grid was also fine, it was about driver heights and she made sure to group the shorter drivers together so that she wouldn’t have to actually say Lando’s name. They even filmed a few jokey AlphaTauri videos while they were in their racing gear. It was the press conference where the day really went to shit.

Her group was made up of Lewis Hamilton, neutral, Sebastian Vettel, kind but never spoken to him, Mick Schumacher, nice enough, and, even though the driver selections were supposedly random, Lando Norris. She made sure to seat herself in the far right-hand chair, hopefully so that the interviewers would forget about her. That was obviously a feeble wish.

“Sorry to Seb, Lewis and Mick, this could be a bit of a boring one for you.” One of the press conference interviewers said as they all settled themselves down. The five of them chuckled good naturedly, but Sydney thought she might vomit again.

“And we’re good to go. Well, I don’t think anyone will be surprised by this first question. Lando, we’ll come to you first, what do you have to say after that photo was leaked on Tuesday?” There was a slightly awkward moment of silence as Lando paused to readjust in his chair, obviously trying to stall as well.

“Well, I mean, obviously it’s not an ideal situation for myself and Sydney to be in,” Sydney noticed him tack on the end of her name like an afterthought, obviously not wanting to use a nickname on air, “because it wasn’t a public place, you know, so it’s unfortunate that even our private lives aren’t very private, but I suppose that comes with the territory.” Lando seemed like he was done, but a stern looked from Charlotte prompted him to continue.

“It’s also not as if we need to apologise, so I guess all I really have to say is that it’s just a photo from a 21st birthday party and people shouldn’t read too much into it.” Lando sank back in his chair, and no amount of eye contact from Charlotte was going to make him keep going.

“And Sydney, what are your thoughts?” The interviewer turned to look at her. She had to stop herself from instinctually looking over at Lando, needing the support of his blue eyes at a time like this.

“I agree with Lando, I think that it is not a photo that belongs to the public, and it is unfortunate that we cannot behave like normal people our age without a big fuss being made. On the other hand,” Sydney continued, receiving a look from Daisy this time, “I do recognise that I have a great privilege in being a Formula 1 driver, and obviously part of that is being, euh, watched? I guess? And although, as Lando said, I do not need to apologise, I can see why certain people have, euh, issues with our behaviour.”

The interviewer moved onto questions about the race for the other three for about 5 minutes, a fraction of the time they would usually spend on official questions, before opening up to the floor.

“David Croft, Sky Sports F1, a question for Sydney. You said before that you can see why certain people would ‘have issues’ with your and Lando’s actions. Why is that?”

“Well, I need to be, euh, diplomatic, non?” Sydney elicited a laugh from a few journalists, but barely cracked a smile herself. “The reason is that people usually have issues when young people in, euh, with fame, behave the way other people their age do. Drinking, dancing, a lot of people have problems with that.”

“And how do you respond to assertions that you’re throwing away your career, or making a mockery of F1?” Sydney’s head began to buzz, and the long words he was using didn’t help. She inferred what ‘assertions’ meant and carried on, hoping she was correct.

“Euh, well, I think that could be how it seems, but I think that some people are forgetting that it was my 21st birthday, and that I do not do this every weekend, if ever, and that I am still capable of racing well even though I am not just a Formula 1 robot with no desire to have fun.” Sydney tried to stop herself from getting too annoyed.

“I think, what I’m more trying to get at here, forgive me for the insistence, is that a relationship between two drivers could be potentially detrimental to the sport as a whole.” The man continued.

“Well, maybe it could be, but we are not in a relationship so that is not a problem.” Sydney said bluntly.

“Okay, I think we’ll move on to somebody else now.” The main interviewer said.

“Peter Vamosi, Racingline. Sydney, how do you think the presence of both genders in Formula 1 will change the sport, especially given the actions of Monday night?” Sydney had to push down a grimace.

“I think that the presence of women in Formula 1 can only be a good thing. There are too many men in this sport, both on the track and off, and I think that, when girls who are interested in karting see female engineers and female drivers, they understand that this is a real career for them. I also think that sometimes this sport can be, euh, negative in that there is too much, euh, trying to prove that you’re the best. I mean obviously we all want to be the best, we all want to win. But I think sometimes, with all the, euh, I think testosterone is the word, with all the testosterone the competition can compromise safety and can create really negative attitudes towards other teams or other supporters.” Sydney knew that that wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but it was how she really felt, and she wouldn’t bow to his will and talk about Monday night when it was irrelevant.

“Matt Kew, Autosport. Sydney, can you really maintain that view, that there are only positives to come from a female presence in Formula 1, when one photo of you and Lando has already thrown the paddock into such a frenzy?” God, she wanted to strangle that little man.

“Euh, well, yes, of course I can. That ‘frenzy’ is because of an attitude problem in this sport, not because of a female presence.” She had completely forgotten about keeping her cool.

“Christian Nimmervoll, Motorsport Total. Christian Horner has just told my colleague that, quote ‘drivers who behave like drunk teenagers in their free time are a poor representation of the serious athletes in this sport.’ What do you have to say about that, and do you think that that is reflective of the attitude problem you mentioned?” Sydney paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, struggling to stay civil.

“You didn’t address the question, can I answer?” Seb said jokingly, representing the thoughts of the other three drivers. Well, potentially even four, given Lando hadn’t been asked a single question so far either.

“Um, Sydney?” The interviewer said awkwardly, and she could hear Lewis exhale in comedic disbelief next to her.

“Euh, I think that, um, well I do not really know what to say.” Sydney half-laughed. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but if she began crying sexism up and down the paddock she’d be called hysterical.

“I’d like to answer this question, actually.” Lando said from a few chairs down, and all heads in the room, including Sydney’s, turned to face him. “I think that the attitude problem Syd mentioned isn’t just people saying things like what Christian said, which I have my own thoughts on, but that’s besides the point. I think the attitude problem is perfectly represented in this room. She was asked four questions in a row, all of which tried to insinuate that a drunken kiss between us somehow meant that women shouldn’t be allowed to race in Formula 1, which, pardon my language, is the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard. At least if all of you were interrogating both of us, it could be written off as gossip for entertainment, but the fact that Syd’s getting the blame for something that wasn’t even bad in the first place is ridiculous, given there are two of us in that photo.” The room fell silent after Lando’s short outburst, and Sydney noticed that Charlotte and Daisy had already left the room. They were beyond help.

“Well, maybe we’ll just end it there for today.” The main interviewer said, awkwardly mouthing something to his colleague. Lewis turned to Sydney sympathetically.

“I know how it feels, don’t worry. Just remember that if you’re driving well, and getting good results, there’s nothing they can really say to you.” With that, the older man stood up and left the room, allowing Sydney to make brief eye contact with Lando before he too left the room. It was going to be a long weekend.

She was in the car, in the last minutes remaining of Q3. She would have just enough time to complete one flying lap after this slow lap to let her battery recover. Mattia had told her to aim for the 1:03s, and she had no idea where that would put her but she trusted him. Disappointed my ass, Sydney thought to herself. She’d never qualified so well in her whole life. It was as if a hole had opened up in the middle of the track ahead of her and she was just disappearing through it, the air in front of her splitting like a tunnel.

She rounded the last corner, hitting the apex just right and accelerating out in a way that made her feel as though she had melted into the car and was simply extending her own body parts. As she passed the chequered flag, she heard the telltale crackle of the radio, followed by a cheer that surprised her so much she nearly spun the car.

“P4 SYD! P FUCKING 4!” Mattia yelled over the radio from the pit wall.

“Seriously?” Sydney asked in true disbelief.

“Yeah Syd, well done, well done today.” Mattia continued.

“Fuck me man, fuck, I was not expecting that.” Sydney could feel tears running down her cheeks. If she was Max or Lewis they would’ve been tears of disappointment with P4, but she was elated. A small voice in the back of her head whispered, “Lando had better have done well too, or you’ll look really, really bad.”

“And now, is that Sydney Laurent I see? I think it is.” The voice of Ted Kravitz made Sydney turn her head to face him, stopping her walk through the paddock. She had her hair unplaited and tied into a bun, and her overalls were down around her waist, and she hadn’t taken off the shit-eating grin that she’d been wearing for the past hour and a half. “Well, someone certainly looks happy.” He said in his cheerful voice.

“I think this is the best day of my life since France.” She said happily.

“And France was less than a month ago, you have to be aware that you’re having an astoundingly good season.” The photo flashed through her mind and she winced slightly.

“Well, euh, astoundingly? That was what you said? No, I wouldn’t say that, not after this week. But today, it has definitely improved things.” Sydney laughed.

“Speaking of this week, with you in P4 and Lando in P2 after qualifying, I mean, I think everyone has to eat their words now, don’t they?” Ted said, with a grin still on his face.

“Eat their words? I have never heard that expression before, it is funny. Yes, yes I believe that they do have to eat their words. We are both serious athletes, even if some people don’t think so.” She said, cheekily referencing Christian Horner’s comments from earlier in the week.

“We’d better get going, but it was lovely talking to you Sydney, best of luck for tomorrow.” Ted said, rushing off to find another person to interview for his post-qualifying, post-media show.

Once again, it was more due to the pitfalls in other driver’s strategies, with Lewis’ pitstop taking over 6 seconds and the undercut not working in Checo’s favour, but Sydney found herself walking out onto the podium in third place, accepting her trophy and holding it high above her head. You couldn’t call this a fluke anymore, nor luck, nor anything else. She was just a good driver, and no one could dispute it. But the thing that made this podium even better, that made a grin split her face open in two like a madwoman, was who walked out when they announced second place.

“LANDOOO NORRIS!” Cheers erupted from the crowd as the boy stepped out to accept his trophy. Sydney couldn’t help but stare. His brown curls spilled out from under his cap and his smile was bright enough to rival the sun. Her chest ached for what could now never transpire between them, but she also felt elated at what they had achieved. They had managed to make all the doubt and the criticism vanish in just one fell swoop.

The music began to play and Lando and Sydney began spraying their champagne with noticeably more enthusiasm than Max, but that didn’t stop him from dousing the pair in equal measure. Once the cheering had died down, Sydney lifted the comically large bottle to take a well-deserved swig.

“You two are unbelievable.” Max said, laughing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lando said, cringing at the taste of champagne in his mouth.

“You have maybe the biggest scandal between two drivers, and I’m literally dating the ex-wife of the driver I replaced, and then you finish the week with a podium for both of you. I just, it’s unbelievable.” Max continued, laughing to himself.

“Yeah, we’re pretty good.” Lando said, and he swung his arm around Sydney’s shoulders as they walked off the podium. He removed it fairly swiftly upon noticing all the cameras that were on them, but at this point Sydney didn’t care. They could shit-stir all they wanted, because they’d proved that whatever was going on between them, which neither them nor the media really understood, wouldn’t get in the way of their jobs.

That night, after she was interviewed, debriefed and showered, Sydney cuddled under her duna, the warmth of her hotel room nearly lulling her to sleep. Her newly founded phone addiction led her to opening Instagram, despite her better judgement. She saw more notifications than usual, all of which were about the same tagged post. Clicking on the first one to pop up, she was taken to Lando’s account. On the first slide, a picture of Max, Lando and Sydney on the podium, grins wide as Max spoke to both of them. On the second, it was the picture from the pub. Not the one taken by some stranger, nor the video taken by Pierre. It was Daisy’s photo, the one of them laughing. His caption? 🥉+🥈. God, she really did blush like a schoolgirl.

#Formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader

[novasdarling]

Just A Kiss

TW: Noncon, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, Manipulation Sorta, Aged Up, Female Reader

Todo felt like his whole life was complete now. A missing piece had finally fallen into his hands. The piece being you, you were the piece that made him whole. That made his heart beat faster, made him smile with just a single thought. You were his and he was yours. Todo was sure of it, you two belonged with each other, soulmates. It was only right that you two would be together so he wasn't wrong with how he felt. It was destiny, it was only right.

You on the other hand weren't aware of his growing feelings. A part of him knew that, knew you weren't like him, but he liked to pretend you were simply just shy. It was all about playing hard to get with you. But you didn’t need to, not after he saved your life a few weeks ago. It annoyed him a bit, he deserved to have you. He could provide, take good care of you. All he needed was to have you open up to him. It was delusional, Todo wasn't being rational. Yet, that failed to stop his reasoning.

Todo had met you when he saved a few civilians from a powerful curse bothering a park. It was an easy job for him, he had years of practice with these types of curses. You had been with some friends out late. Sitting in the park to drink and eat. A perfect target for the curse. Something your kind would never know.

Usually, he tried to keep himself not known by civilians. However, this time, he was unable to stay in the shadows. Making himself seen to keep the group safe. Exercising the curse rather quickly. It should have been a typical job. Nothing that would normally linger in his mind. Nevertheless, you changed that. He locked eyes with you and just knew you were the one. Sadly your group ran before he could ask you your name, or say hello. It was unfortunate, but that didn’t stop him. He was lucky to find you a week later. Todo liked to think it was a sign from the universe when he bumped into you at a cafe. A sign that he ignored involved him stalking and researching all he could. Finding your daily routine, including the fact you visit this cafe regularly.

You didn’t recognize him after all, it was dark that night. You both talked a bit, he even got your number. To him, you both clicked so well. You laughed at his jokes, smiled at him. It pulled him in and made him feel loved. Almost like you two had been dating for years already. His mind began to fantasize as he watched you speak. Picturing you two as a loving couple, him coming home to you every day, the date nights you two would have. After the first encounter, he only got worse. His imagination was becoming reality to him. Every time he watched you, it wasn’t stalking, but rather a loving boyfriend checking on his partner. The nights he watched you sleep from the corners of your bedroom. You completely unknowing of his presence, or even that he knew where you lived. To him though, he was just admiring his precious girl. Loving how peaceful she looked sleeping. When he undid his belt and began to touch himself. Well, there was not really a way to rationalize it. All he could do was pretend it wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take long for Todo to demand more of your attention. “Bumping” into you was beginning to get out of hand. He saw how you looked at him now. There wasn’t that smile when you saw him. It was morphing into worry. Then he realized his texts were becoming less answered, even when he send over ten in a row. He couldn’t lose you. Todo needed to do something to save the relationship. To make you see what he does. Perhaps you were unsure of his devotion to you, he needed to change that. That was how he got here, watching you get ready for bed through the crack in your closet door. He needed to make sure you were okay, to talk to you. It was like an itch that kept spreading, only getting tougher to ignore. Spreading and begging to be scratched.

He wasn’t sure how he would confront you about your relationship issues, after all, he was in your closet without you knowing. He was a coward, he should be able to talk to you. You were his and couples should talk freely about any problems that arise. It wasn't right to be hiding there, to be watching as you undressed and got into your pyjamas. It wasn't proper to drool at the way you did your hair for bed. None of it was right, but Todo kept excusing it. Stating it was all okay in the grand scheme of things.

The itch got worse. Watching you sleeping there, looking so beautiful and peaceful. He needed you, needed to have you with him. He should be sleeping beside you. Waking up to your beautiful face every day. Getting up early for work, bringing you a coffee while you slowly wake up. He knew how you liked it. Watched you make it almost every morning. Todo could be so good for you, you just needed to see him do all of that. The itch was too strong now, he needed to scratch it. Just a bit, just enough till next time. Enough to hold him off for a few days. Stepping out of the closet. Watching his step, trying not to make any noise or disturb your room too much. You look so beautiful laying there. Peaceful, like you were comfortable with him being there. See, you were fine with him. You had to be. He just worried too much. You even let out a soft moan when he began to pet your hair. Leaning into his touch.

By the time you noticed his presence he was resting his forehead on yours, eyes closed. Breathing you in while his hands played with your hair. He never felt more at peace than now. Too bad it was short lived. He was torn out of his fantasy at your voice.

“A-Aoi”

It was so soft, barely above a whisper. Opening his eyes to meet yours staring at him. You looked worried, shocked he was there in your room. You had no idea he knew where you lived. Let alone that he would break into your place. The two of your just stared at each other. Unsure of what to do, waiting for the other to make the first move. This only led Todo to read the situation wrong. In his eyes, you were accepting him. It wasn’t fear that had you frozen, rather it was love. The moment felt right, he leant down to place his lips on yours. He had waited so long for this. Ignoring the way, you didn’t kiss back. Figuring it was the shyness. Wanting him to take the lead on things, something he’d happily oblige.

“S-Stop. How-Why-”

Todo hushed you. Not wanting to hear you reject him. No, you weren't, you were just shy. You needed to let him help. You were both destined to be together. He liked so much of the same things you did. If you only gave him a reasonable chance. More than just coffee dates or “run-ins”. This could all be so good, so right. Ignoring your words, trying to deepen the kiss. Using his hands in your hair to support himself and keep you in place. Pretending your pleas for him to stop, were actually pleas for more. That they were confirmation of love. His whole body encompassed yours, keeping you down on the bed. Todo was gone. He was unable to see reality now. Too caught up in his ideals, his fantasies with you. While this was a clear assault on you. In his eyes, it was too lovers finally having their first kiss. There was no use fighting him. He was so much bigger and stronger. What could you really do? Perhaps in the back of his mind, he knew all of that. Ignoring it for his own fabrications.

Todo pulled away and stared at you. Looking over every detail of your face. You were so precious, looking up at him all wide-eyed. He finally had you here, under him. Touching you and kissing you. Hushing you when you tried to speak again.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take good care of you baby.” He nuzzled his face in your hair, inhaling and moaning. “So good to me.”

There was no fight in you. You weren't sure why, but no matter how scared you were. No matter how much he kissed and touched you, you just couldn’t do more than lame pushes and pleas. Things he ignored easily. Todo disregarded it all, even when you began to dissociate. Closing your eyes and pretending he wasn’t there. All he could do was touch and kiss you. He was worried about moving too fast. A laughable thought considering what was happening.

He waited until you had fallen back asleep before slipping out the door. Leaving no real trace that he was there. The next morning it all seemed like a dream to you. No marks, nothing missing. There was nothing to prove what happened, actually happened. Maybe that was what made it easy for you to dismiss it as a weird dream. Todo was lucky that you didn’t think too hard about it. He didn’t want to have to do something so drastic so soon again. His reasoning told him he was being intense that night. Taking a huge risk with those kisses. It seemed you were still too shy for them. He guessed you needed some space, some time to think. So, he avoided you. Let you have some space from him. It was torture. Watching you from afar again, but it was what was needed.

A few weeks had passed by, all you saw of him was the occasional run-in on the street. He paid you little attention, solidifying the idea that that night was all in your head. Todo was too causal with you to have broken into your house, to have pinned you down and kissed you. He barely acted like you were there now. This was how he wanted things, back to normal. You suspecting nothing of him. Eventually, though, he would make the night a permanent reality. Soon you would open up to him more. All he needed to do was control himself better. To let you set the pace. Then you would want him just as much too, he wouldn’t need to follow you in the shadows. Until then, he'll need to be more careful with his nightly visits.

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